I'll Be Home For Christmas
by Red Hardy
Summary: A last minute run to the grocery store on Christmas Eve puts Joe and Vanessa in the wrong place at the wrong time and leaves their families waiting, wondering, worrying and praying for a Christmas miracle.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: In the words of my good friend Phoenix, "This is a Nancy Drew Free zone." If you're looking for Nancy, you won't find her here.

While this isn't the first story I've ever written, it is the first one I've posted here. Please be gentle. :-)

Summary: A last minute run to the grocery store on Christmas Eve puts Joe and Vanessa in the wrong place at the wrong time and leaves their families waiting, wondering, worrying… and praying for a Christmas miracle.

_I'll Be Home For Christmas_, Words and Music by Kim Gannon, Buck Ram, and Walter Kent, 1943, revised 1948

**I'll Be Home For Christmas**

**Chapter 1**

Nineteen-year-old Joe Hardy stared at the brightly lit Christmas tree, his blue eyes revealing an inner peace he was sure, just two short years ago, that he'd never feel again. He sighed and glanced at the entryway leading into the living room of the Bender farmhouse. Vanessa Bender, his nineteen-year-old girlfriend had told him to wait on the sofa while she went off to find something. The long-legged blonde beauty who had come into his life and stolen his heart was everything he could have hoped for and more. And he was happy to be spending this Christmas Eve with Vanessa and her mother, Andrea.

Joe shifted restlessly glancing again at the entryway, wondering if he should go try and help Vanessa find whatever it was she was looking for. Just as he was about to get up, she returned and settled herself down on the sofa next to him, one arm behind her back.

"So," he said, putting an arm around her and pulling her close. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Vanessa's eyes glinted with mischief and she smiled seductively. "Mm-hmm, I did." Slowly, she pulled her hand out from behind her back and held it a few inches above their heads.

Joe glanced up and grinned, before looking back down at her. "Ah…mistletoe…" Without another word he pulled Vanessa to him and kissed her longingly, the way he knew she loved, and practically felt her melting in his arms.

Despite the mistletoe falling to the floor seconds after Joe kissed his girlfriend, the two teens remained wrapped in each other's arms, in their own little world, and didn't hear Andrea Bender enter the room several minutes later.

"Ahem," Andrea cleared her throat, loudly. Joe and Vanessa separated reluctantly and turned to a smiling Andrea. "Gee, I hate to interrupt," she said, her eyes twinkling, "but I'm afraid I have some bad news, honey," she finished looking directly at Vanessa.

"What?" Vanessa asked worriedly.

"I forgot to buy eggnog. Sorry, kiddo."

"MOM!" Vanessa practically wailed. "We always have eggnog on Christmas Eve! It's a tradition!"

"I know and I'm sorry. But we can still have our little tradition… We can use milk instead," Andrea suggested, hoping to avoid a meltdown by her daughter. Christmas was Vanessa's favorite holiday, and with only the two of them to celebrate it as a family for as long as Vanessa could remember, the traditions and rituals Andrea created were very important to her daughter.

Joe watched the exchange, wondering why eggnog was so important to his girlfriend and this tradition – whatever it was.

"It won't be the same," Vanessa pouted

"Uh…can I ask a question?" Joe interrupted, raising his hand as if he were in a classroom.

Vanessa nodded, but the sadness in her eyes went straight to his heart.

"What's the big tradition? And why is eggnog so important?"

"When I was little, Mom and I started this tradition. Every Christmas Eve, right before dinner, we sat in front of the tree and listed all the things we were thankful for in the past year. Mom always had a glass of wine but I guess when I was about four or five, I pitched a fit because I couldn't have wine too. So we had eggnog instead – something we could share," Vanessa sighed and shrugged miserably. "I know. It sounds stupid. We can be just as thankful without eggnog…"

Joe saw the disappointment in her eyes and heard the sadness in her voice. This tradition meant everything to her. And tonight, when the Benders were going to share it with Joe for the first time, Vanessa had wanted everything to be perfect.

Joe glanced at his watch and then looked up at Andrea. "It's five-fifteen… what time does that grocery store close tonight? The one out on the main road?"

"Six o'clock. Why?"

Joe looked at Vanessa and smiled. "My girl wants eggnog. And whatever my girl wants…" Joe pulled her close and kissed her soundly on the cheek, "…my girl gets."

Andrea shook her head, smiling. "You shouldn't spoil her like that, Joe. She'll get used to it," she admonished him, although she was secretly pleased.

When they had first moved to Bayport, Vanessa had not been at all happy. Then her tires got slashed and Andrea started second guessing her decision to move to this quaint little town from New York City. But those slashed tires had turned out to be a blessing in disguise, bringing Joe Hardy into her daughter's life. When they'd first started dating and Andrea started learning a little bit more about Joe, and particularly what had happened to his first girlfriend, Andrea wasn't at all sure she wanted Vanessa anywhere near him. But Vanessa fell for him hard and fast, and Andrea had to admit Joe made her happy. Not only that, he treated her like a princess. Vanessa had dated many boys while they lived in the city, but as far as the way they had treated her daughter, none of them could hold a candle to Joe Hardy.

"She should get used to it," Joe said as he stood, pulling Vanessa up with him. "She deserves it."

Vanessa wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him gently. "You're so good to me," she murmured.

"Okay, troops, you've got forty-five minutes to get that eggnog and get back here. That'll give us plenty of time for our traditional eggnog toast before dinner," Andrea said as Joe and Vanessa pulled on their coats and gloves and Vanessa wound a scarf around her neck.

"We'll be back in half an hour," Joe promised, taking Vanessa's hand and escorting her out the door.

oooOOOooo

Fifteen minutes later, Joe was standing behind Vanessa in the express checkout lane, although tonight it was anything but. Sighing, he wrapped his arms around Vanessa's waist and pulled her close to him. Leaning down, he buried his face in her neck, inhaling the scent of perfume that always drove him crazy. Vanessa hesitated but then leaned back against him, obviously trying not to give in to his ministrations.

"We _are_ in the grocery store," she murmured softly, nudging him lightly with her elbow.

Giving another dramatic sigh of disappointment Joe straightened up, but kept his arms securely about her waist. As they moved forward a few feet, Joe swore he could feel someone watching him. Turning slightly, he looked behind him and saw an elderly couple staring at them, smiling.

"Hold on to her good and tight, sonny," the old man grinned and winked at Joe. "The good ones are hard to find; you don't want her to get away." With that, the man leaned over and kissed his wife on the cheek.

Joe laughed as Vanessa blushed. "That's good advice, sir," Joe agreed. "And I agree wholeheartedly." He planted a quick kiss on Vanessa's cheek. "I have no intentions of letting her get away."

The kindly old woman leaned close to Vanessa and squeezed her arm. "He's a keeper, honey. I can see in his eyes the way he adores you. Don't let him go."

Vanessa flushed a deeper red but nodded at the woman. "I won't." She looked up at Joe and winked. "He's stuck with me."

The line moved forward once more and it was finally their turn. Vanessa put the two pints of eggnog on the counter as Joe pulled out his wallet. While waiting for his change, Joe noticed an armored car guard hefting two large bags over his shoulder and heading for the door. "Look at that," he murmured, nudging Vanessa. "That's gotta be quite a haul considering how many people have been in here the past few days!"

Picking up their bag, Joe took Vanessa's hand and they fell in step behind the guard as he walked out the door of the supermarket. Stopping behind the armored car that was parked in front of the doors the guard waited as his partner came around from the front of the truck. Just as Joe and Vanessa were about to step around the guards, two men in black ski masks ran from the shadows of the store. Rushing towards the guards with guns drawn, the first man shot one of the guards point blank in the chest.

As soon as the gunshot rang out, Joe dropped the bag and shoved Vanessa to the ground behind him. "STAY DOWN!"

He heard screams, shouts and running footsteps but his eyes were focused on the downed guard. Blood was streaming from a small hole in his chest. He turned his head towards Joe and with great effort mouthed the words '_Help me'_!

Joe didn't hesitate. He started towards the man as a myriad of thoughts swirled through his mind. Was the man married? Did he have children? How could his family ever celebrate the holidays again if he died on Christmas Eve? Joe hadn't taken more than three steps when another shot rang out. His eyes grew wide as a burning white-hot pain seared through his right shoulder. Stumbling Joe fell to his knees, clutching his shoulder. Looking down, he saw blood beginning to seep through his fingers, a slow trickle at first, but within seconds his gloved hand was covered in a dark red stain…

oooOOOooo

"_STAY DOWN!"_

Hugging the ground, Vanessa heard the words Joe had shouted at her echoing in her head as he shoved her to the cold hard cement. As she lay there immobile, Vanessa heard people screaming and shouting, cars peeling away from the store, a loud click and then…another gunshot. Instinctively she looked back over her shoulder and saw Joe sink to his knees.

'_NO!'_ Vanessa wasn't sure if she screamed the word out loud or it was just reverberating in her mind. Then she saw it – the blood running through Joe's fingers, down his arm…and she couldn't stay put a second longer.

Scrambling to his side, she was barely aware of the chaos around her fading away. Her world had shrunk and at that moment there were only two people in it – she and Joe.

"Oh, my God, Joe!" she cried out, kneeling beside him.

"Get in the store!" he said through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezed shut and pain lacing his voice.

"Not without you," Vanessa argued. Alarmed at the amount of blood he was losing, Vanessa yanked the scarf from around her neck and wrapped it around Joe's shoulder a few times then pressed down - hard. "I'm sorry," she said, tears springing to her eyes when Joe let out a muffled cry of pain.

"Get inside," Joe repeated, his words more ragged this time.

Vanessa wrapped an arm around his waist, vowing not to leave him out here at the mercy of the two armed men. Realizing she had no idea where the thieves were, Vanessa glanced behind her and shivered in fear. The second guard was now lying on the ground, unconscious, as the men rifled his pockets.

"Where's the damn keys!" one of them muttered, followed by a string of curses.

"They're distracted," Vanessa whispered to Joe. "I think we can get inside without them noticing." As she looked up at the doors of the supermarket, she saw a man pulling on them, trying to get in to no avail and it hit her what the loud click had been. The doors to the store had been locked! It prevented the two armed men from entering the store, but it also left anyone outside at their mercy. As the man turned and started to run across the parking lot Vanessa called out to him.

"Help us!" He stopped and turned hesitating for a second. His eyes strayed to the masked men – and their guns – and he turned and ran. "PLEASE!" Vanessa screamed, tears streaking her face. "HELP US!"

Looking back to the store, she saw the kindly older couple who had been in line behind her and Joe. The old man was gesturing wildly to a store employee, pointing to the doors, to Joe and Vanessa, but the employee was shaking his head adamantly. The old woman was staring straight into Vanessa's eyes, tears running down her cheeks in rivulets. The woman started towards the doors as the employee grabbed her arm.

'_I'm sorry,'_ the old woman mouthed to Vanessa. Vanessa watched helplessly as the employee forced the woman and her husband towards the back of the store to safety, away from the glass doors. Vanessa stared at the now empty lobby of the store and realized she and Joe were completely alone…

oooOOOooo

"I FOUND THEM!"

The masked man crawled out from under the armored car, clutching a set of keys in his hand.

"Quick, get the door open!" the second man yelled, already hefting the heavy bag of cash off the ground. Seconds ticked by as his partner fumbled with the keys, not knowing which one opened the back door. In the distance a siren sounded, although it was rapidly growing closer. "Come on, hurry up!"

Finally his partner let out a shout and pulled the door open. He threw the first bag of cash inside and reached for the second one but something caught his eye. At the far end of the parking lot red and blue lights flashed, throwing an eerie strobe effect across the cars in the lot. "SHIT! The cops are here! We're supposed to be long gone by now!"

As he hefted the second bag of cash into the truck, he realized they couldn't possibly get away unseen before the police arrived. The sound of crying caught his attention and he looked down, just now noticing the teen-aged couple huddled together on the ground. He'd shot the boy when he tried to help the guard, but in the confusion assumed the injured teen had crawled away. _'Lucky for us he didn't,'_ he thought as the police car grew closer still. He grabbed his partner by the arm and pointed to the young couple.

"Throw 'em in the back! We'll need something to bargain with!"

oooOOOooo

"Come on, Joe," Vanessa encouraged him. "Please, try and stand up!" Her voice was filtering through the haze of pain and Joe knew he needed to move. Vanessa had one arm around his waist and the other was holding his uninjured arm across her shoulders. Grabbing a handful of his jacket, she tried to pull him to his feet. Joe gamely tried to stand but he stumbled, falling forward and dragging Vanessa down with him.

"Run," he told her, trying to disentangle himself from her, push her away when suddenly she was wrenched from his grasp and Joe knew it wasn't of her own doing. Without her to hold onto, he fell to his hands and knees.

"_NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_

Vanessa's scream ricocheted in his ears and ripped his heart in two. Shifting slightly, Joe turned his head and saw a man literally throwing Vanessa into the back of the armored vehicle. Pushing himself up onto his knees, Joe hissed and tried to ignore the blinding pain in his shoulder. For the first time he heard the siren and knew it was close. Looking up, he thought he saw the red and blue strobe lights streaking across the parking lot. If he could just hold them off for another few seconds…

Without warning, Joe's arms were grabbed and he cried out in pain as he was pulled to his feet. With a man on either side of him, Joe felt himself being lifted off the ground and heaved into the back of the truck. He hit the back wall squarely with his injured shoulder and saw stars. As the door slammed shut, he and Vanessa were engulfed in darkness. On the verge of passing out, Joe wondered if they'd live to see Christmas Day….


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Anonymous reviewing is now enabled. (Thanks for the heads up, Lauriena.) Sorry, I'm new at this; I thought anonymous reviewing was automatic unless the writer disabled it. :Hangs head in shame for assuming:

Many thanks to my buddy Phx for the shameless plug. :D

I'll Be Home For Christmas

Chapter 2

Frank Hardy walked into the house and shut the door behind him. He stood in the front hall a moment, inhaling the mixture of scents that were uniquely Christmas. The fresh pine from the seven-foot tree in the living room, the spicy scent of ginger and the scented candles his mother loved so much, mixed with the tantalizing aroma of a pot roast that wafted out from the kitchen.

As he took off his jacket, gloves and scarf and hung them in the closet, the strains of a familiar Christmas song could be heard from the kitchen. Frank chuckled to himself, thinking he could live the rest of his life quite happily if he never heard that song again.

Wandering down the hall to the kitchen, Frank pushed open the swinging door and walked in. "Don't you ever get sick of this song," he teased his mother, as _I'll Be Home for Christmas _played in the background. He knew it was Laura's favorite Christmas song; Joe's, too. _'Good thing they can both carry a tune,' _Frank grinned to himself, thinking of the many times Laura and Joe had accompanied the song in an impromptu duet.

Laura hummed along, ignoring Frank's teasing. "Go get your father and the two of you can set the table while I finish up in here," she requested, as Frank kissed her on the cheek. "Just the three of us. Joe is having dinner with Vanessa and Andrea tonight."

"Okay," Frank agreed, stealing a soft, hot roll from the basket on his way out. Entering the living room Frank saw his father, Fenton Hardy, stretched out on the couch watching television. "We've got our orders, set the table or we don't eat," Frank said dramatically, leaning over the back of the couch, accidentally dropping a few crumbs on his father's shirt. "Oops, sorry Dad," he grinned.

Moments later the table was set and Fenton moved to turn off the television, finding his wife's favorite Christmas music an infinitely more appealing back drop to their family dinner. As he reached for the remote, a 'Breaking News' announcement flashed across the screen. He stopped to listen as Laura and Frank joined him. A reporter was standing in front of a local supermarket, red lights flashing around her. Yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the stiff winter breeze behind her.

"Moments ago," she began, her voice somber, "a daring armed robbery took place right here, outside the Bayport Fresh Foods store in the Miller Farms Shopping Center."

"Hey, that's right down the street from the Benders," Frank murmured.

"Two armed, masked men ambushed the armored car guards who were completing their last pick up for Christmas Eve. One guard is in stable condition with a head injury and is expected to make a full recovery. The second guard was shot in the chest and, at this moment, is fighting for his life at the Bayport Trauma Center. We are told he will be undergoing emergency surgery within minutes.

"Witnesses report two men in ski masks ambushed the guards as they prepared to put two cash bags in the truck. Most people ran to their cars or back into the store, preventing further carnage. Store management immediately locked the doors to keep their customers safe and prevent the armed men from entering the store.

"Unfortunately, a Good Samaritan who tried to help the gravely wounded guard was also shot, and he and his companion were taken hostage, thrown into the back of the truck by the armed men. The armored truck was last seen speeding out of the parking lot with a single police car in pursuit. This was the last pickup of the day for the armored car company. With it being Christmas Eve, it is estimated there was close to five million dollars in cash on the truck.

"Tonight, our thoughts and prayers are with the two hostages, the guards and their families. We will bring you more information as it becomes available. Jim, back to you in the studio…"

Silence fell over the Hardys as they stared at the screen, each momentarily lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Fenton turned off the television and, putting an arm around his wife and son, slowly escorted them to the dinner table, their hearts heavy.

"I feel so badly for the families of those guards," Laura sighed, passing around a plate of vegetables. "And those poor people taken hostage…on Christmas Eve of all nights." She shook her head sadly. "I just can't even imagine what they're going through, let alone their families." She knew from personal experience how horrible it was to be in that position and couldn't even fathom how devastating it must be to get that kind of news on the holiest night of the year. She gave a silent prayer of thanks that Joe was safely ensconced on the Bender's farm, sharing Christmas Eve dinner with his girlfriend and her mother, and deftly steered the conversation to happier topics.

oooOOOooo

Andrea glanced at clock and gasped. Over an hour had passed since Joe and Vanessa had left for the supermarket! She'd been so caught up in the last-minute details, knowing Vanessa wanted everything to be absolutely perfect for Joe's first official Christmas Eve dinner with them she hadn't noticed how quickly time had passed.

'_Where could they be?'_ she thought with a frown. Even given the crowds of last-minute shoppers in the grocery store, they should have been back close to forty minutes ago!

Reaching for the phone she tried first Vanessa's cell phone and then Joe's, a small knot forming in her stomach when she got a message saying they were out of range. Trying not to panic, Andrea told herself the store was probably a lot more crowded than they'd anticipated or maybe they hit heavy traffic on the way home.

'_Although it is just down the street…'_

Sighing, she decided to give them a few more minutes. Turning on the television she sat down on the couch and started flipping channels. It took only a moment for her to realize every major network had anchors reporting on something – the _same_ something. Turning up the volume, she heard the anchor cut to a reporter who was apparently at the scene of whatever the breaking news story was.

Andrea's blood turned to ice as she recognized the grocery store in the background, its entrance and front sidewalk now ringed with yellow crime scene tape. As the reporter pointed out a very large, dark stain on the ground in front of the store, she sucked in a breath and dropped the remote on the floor as her heart hammered in her chest. She was staring at the store where Joe and Vanessa had gone!

Flying off the couch she grabbed the phone. Her hands shook and her fingers fumbled over the buttons, but finally she managed to dial the Hardys' number.

oooOOOooo

"I'll get it," Fenton said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, as the ringing of the phone interrupted their dinner. "Hope it's not a new case," he murmured, wanting to do nothing more than spend a nice, quiet holiday with his wife and sons. Picking up the cordless phone just inside the kitchen, Fenton stood in the doorway as he answered. "Hardy residence."

Immediately he was overwhelmed by an uncharacteristically hysterical and babbling Andrea Bender.

"Andrea….What? What's wrong?" he tried to interrupt, shrugging helplessly at the looks he was getting from his wife and son. "I can't…I can't understand you, Andrea. _Andrea!_ You need to take a deep breath and calm down."

Andrea calmed only slightly but it was enough for him to make out three words that sent his heart plummeting – _"Joe… Vanessa… supermarket!"_


	3. Chapter 3

I'll Be Home For Christmas

Chapter 3

"Joe?" Vanessa's voice was shaking badly and Joe used the sound of it to keep himself from slipping into the darkness that was beckoning to him.

"Right…here…" he replied, his voice tight with pain. A dim light suddenly illuminated the inside of the truck and Joe realized Vanessa had pulled out her cell phone. He heard her breathing heavily and then soft, muttered curses. "Won't work…" Joe said, knowing she had tried to call for help. "Can't get...a signal…"

Using the light from her phone, Vanessa crawled across the cold, hard floor to Joe's side. "Oh my God!" she cried out. "Your arm!"

Joe looked down and grimaced. He could tell the bleeding had increased, probably as a result of his arm being grabbed, yanked on and slammed into the wall. The beautiful snow white scarf Vanessa had wrapped around his shoulder was now stained a dark red.

"Hit it on the wall…when they threw me in," Joe said, trying to hide his distress from her. The truck suddenly veered hard to the left, throwing them across the small, enclosed space with Joe landing hard on top of Vanessa. He pushed himself up slightly, just enough to let Vanessa crawl out from under him. Hissing in pain, he clutched his arm to his chest.

"Let me see," Vanessa said softly. Putting her cell phone on the floor next to them, she used the meager light to reposition and tighten the scarf around his arm. "It's getting worse, Joe. I have to put pressure on it to slow the bleeding," she said apologetically.

Joe nodded and braced himself as Vanessa pushed down on the gunshot wound. She was tentative at first, allowing Joe to keep the pain somewhat hidden. However, realizing her attempts weren't yielding the results she wanted, he felt Vanessa push down harder. Joe squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip to keep from crying out as the pain sent him to the edge of darkness.

"Joe? JOE! Do NOT pass out on me!" Vanessa's voice commanded, jolting him back from the edge.

Joe nodded again, focusing on the sounds of the sirens from the police cars chasing the truck, trying to force himself to stay conscious. He tried counting the echoing sirens to keep his mind off the relentless waves of pain shooting through his arm, and estimated there were at least four cars in pursuit of them now.

Suddenly the truck turned sharply to the right. Joe was thrown against the wire mesh wall containing row upon row of money bags and saw a kaleidoscope of colors behind closed eyelids. The truck veered right again, followed by two lefts, every turn of the truck sending the two teens tumbling.

When the truck seemed to be on a straight course once more, Vanessa scrambled back to Joe's side, crouching down beside him. Each turn had slammed Joe's injured arm against a wall or the floor of the truck, taking a little more out of him with each agonizing hit. Hearing his labored breathing and what sounded like a heartbreaking whimper, Vanessa braced herself against the back wall of the truck. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she pulled a semi-conscious Joe half onto her lap and held him tightly, keeping one hand pressed down on the still bleeding gunshot wound.

"Hang in there, Baby," she said soothingly. "We're gonna get out of this just fine. You'll see…" She continued murmuring words of encouragement, while silently praying for a Christmas miracle.

oooOOOooo

In the cab of the armored vehicle, two men tried desperately to shake the numerous police cars now pursuing them. The driver cursed out loud, taking one hair-raising turn after another, unable to lose the cars on his bumper.

"We'll never shake them!" he cried out angrily. Their plans had been perfect! Why was everything going so wrong now?

"We don't have to shake them," his partner said calmly.

"Huh?"

"We can bargain with them…" the man in the passenger seat smiled dangerously, "…with those two bargaining chips we have in the back." He sat back in the seat, his grin widening. "Head for the airport," he ordered. "We're taking a little trip to Canada, and bringing our guests along for the ride."


	4. Chapter 4

**I'll Be Home For Christmas**

**Chapter 4**

Driving as fast as legally possible through the streets of Bayport, Fenton thought back on his conversation with Andrea Bender. He'd finally managed to get her calmed down enough to get the gist of her story. She had forgotten to buy eggnog for Christmas Eve dinner, something Vanessa apparently had her heart set on. Seeing how disappointed Vanessa was, Joe volunteered to make a quick run to the store and pick some up before it closed – the very same store where the armored car theft had taken place.

Andrea's words had come at a rapid clip as she explained the two teens should have been back almost an hour ago. She had tried both Joe's and Vanessa's cell phones and gotten the 'out of range' message. Repeating that information seemed to set her off again and Fenton managed to assuage her fears slightly by reminding her that a lot of those huge buildings had very poor cell phone reception and she might be panicking for nothing. Recalling the news report, Fenton knew the police would have cordoned off the supermarket immediately upon arrival and kept all the customers inside until they could be interviewed. He ventured a guess that Joe and Vanessa were probably still stuck inside the store, just waiting for their turn to be interviewed so they could leave.

It had taken several more minutes, but once he'd gotten Andrea significantly calmer they had agreed to meet at the supermarket. Being a former police officer and now a well respected private investigator afforded Fenton certain privileges. He rarely utilized them not wanting to take advantage, but tonight, as a professional courtesy, he would be granted and gratefully accept immediate access to his son and Vanessa.

'_If they're still there…'_

His heart stuck on the reporter's announcement that two people had been taken hostage. Two people who'd been stranded outside the store after the doors were locked as one of them had tried to help… A good Samaritan… How many times had Fenton heard those words to describe his sons? And tonight a good Samaritan had tried to intervene, to save a life, and had been shot and kidnapped for his efforts. He felt a twinge of guilt and shame as, for the first time in his life he hoped his son had not tried to 'do the right thing'.

Glancing to his right as he drove, Fenton saw his wife staring straight ahead, worry etched on her face. Her innocent comment about how difficult it must be to have a loved one hurt, kidnapped, on this most special night – Christmas Eve – went straight to his soul.

From the backseat he heard Frank repeatedly pressing buttons on his cell phone and knew without asking – he was trying Joe's and Vanessa's cell phones, over and over and over again….

oooOOOooo

Frank's hands shook ever so slightly as he tried to distract himself by repeatedly calling Joe and Vanessa. Eight times he'd tried, eight times he had been unsuccessful. As he pressed the numbers yet again, Frank told himself cell phone reception in the supermarket was abysmal at best, that's why they weren't answering. He tried to convince himself that's where they were – stuck inside the store with Joe pacing impatiently like a caged animal.

He managed a tiny smile, wondering what Joe was doing at that moment. Probably standing right at the doors, his nose pressed to the glass watching longingly as law enforcement officials processed the crime scene.

"_The caller you are trying to reach is out of range…"_

Frank muttered a curse under his breath and flipped the cell phone shut. He turned and stared out the window at the houses as they passed, each of them wrapped in brightly colored lights and Christmas decorations. Was it just last night that he, Callie, Joe and Vanessa had taken a leisurely driving tour of Bayport, 'ooh-ing' and 'aah-ing' at all the lights?

'_Callie.'_

His girlfriend had left early that morning with her parents to spend Christmas with her grandmother in upstate New York. They had made plans for Frank to drive up the day after Christmas and pick her up so they could spend some time together over winter break. Would he still be able to make that trip, he wondered as his thoughts drifted to Joe once more.

'_Good Samaritan.'_ The words haunted Frank. There had probably been hundreds of people in the store tonight. And when shots were fired, exactly how many of them would have run _towards_ the sound instead of away from it… _'Just one,' _he thought miserably.

'_He's fine,_' Frank told himself. _'They're both fine.'_ He repeated it over and over to himself, wondering why the more he tried to convince himself they were safe, the larger the knot in his stomach grew.

oooOOOooo

Breathing a sigh of relief, Fenton turned into the supermarket parking lot and made a beeline for the flashing red and blue lights. Before he'd even turned off the engine, Frank had practically flown from the back seat and raced towards a group of uniformed police officers talking to another man in jeans and a leather jacket. As Fenton took Laura's arm and hurried towards them, he was relieved to see the dark haired man turn to Frank. Detective Con Riley, a close friend of the Hardys, was apparently in charge of the investigation.

Just then, Fenton saw Andrea Bender running towards them from the opposite direction. Stopped by two uniformed officers, she began shouting and gesturing first at the supermarket and then at the Hardys. At Con's signal, she was allowed access and came racing across the short distance. She and Laura embraced briefly and then walked side by side, their hands clasped together.

"Con," Fenton said as the three approached the circle of officers.

Con looked up and nodded, acknowledging Fenton, Laura and Andrea as Frank turned to his father. "They don't have a positive ID on the hostages yet," he said nervously. "But there's an older couple who got a good look. They were in the express lane right in front of the window." Frank pointed to an elderly man and woman sitting on a bench just outside the front door of the supermarket, isolated from the rest of the witnesses.

"Con," Fenton said, grasping his wife's hand tightly. "Have you been inside yet?"

"Yes," Con replied looking at Laura and Andrea sympathetically. Fenton knew the answer to his next question without even having to ask. "Joe and Vanessa aren't in there."

Frank suddenly bolted, seemingly for no apparent reason, leaving his parents staring after him in bewilderment. He reappeared several moments later looking pale and shaken. "Joe's car…." he swallowed hard. "It's still here."

Andrea let out a small cry, and tears sprang to her eyes. Feeling his wife start to shake beside him, Fenton literally passed her off to Frank as he reached for his wallet. Pulling out a picture of Frank, Joe, Callie and Vanessa he handed it to Con. "Can you show it to them?" he requested, nodding at the elderly couple. "At least then we'll know for sure."

Con took the picture and walked to the couple. Frank, Fenton, Laura and Andrea watched from a distance. The woman took the picture from Con and squinted at it. Suddenly her hand flew to her mouth as her husband pointed at the picture excitedly. The older man began talking to Con animatedly, hands flailing. At one point the man grabbed his right arm as if demonstrating something. Con took the picture back, nodding his thanks at the elderly couple and started back towards the Hardys, his face grave.

"They've got Joe and Vanessa," he said, handing the photo back to Fenton. Con waited a beat, eyeing Laura speculatively. He sighed inwardly; there was just no easy way to say it. "And Joe's been shot."


	5. Chapter 5

**I'll Be Home For Christmas**

**Chapter 5**

Huddled in Vanessa's arms, Joe fought to stay conscious. He was feeling lightheaded and the searing flashes of white-hot pain that came with each jarring movement weren't helping any. He focused on Vanessa's voice, the scent of her shampoo and the feel of her hair as it brushed against his cheek.

"Still with me, Babe?" Vanessa murmured in his ear. Her voice was strong but Joe could feel her trembling and he knew it wasn't just from the cold December air seeping into the unheated rear of the vehicle. She was terrified.

"Yup," Joe replied, his voice a little ragged. "Can't get rid of me that easily," he joked.

"As if I would want to," she laughed shakily.

Joe leaned back against her and tried to relax. His heart was racing, beating wildly in his chest. Beads of sweat were slowly dripping into his eyes despite the freezing temperature. He knew that wasn't a good sign. Cracking one eye open he turned his head slightly and glanced at his arm, wrapped in Vanessa's now blood-soaked scarf.

"I think it's stopped for now," Vanessa murmured, gently brushing the sweat from his forehead with a gloved hand. She leaned forward slightly, her lips so close to his ear he could feel the warmth of her breath on his cheek when she spoke. "Hang on, Baby. We'll be home opening Christmas presents before you know it."

Joe nodded, trying to force a smile for her when the truck suddenly swerved right. Seconds later he felt the truck crash into something and the unmistakable screech of twisting, tearing metal.

oooOOOooo

Sitting in the passenger seat of the armored truck, Gus Whitley calmly watched the passing scenery as if he and his partner weren't speeding recklessly through the streets of Bayport on Christmas Eve, with two hostages in the back and a slew of police cars hot on their tail.

"There," he pointed to a sign on the right, indicating the various airport exits. "Go to the private airstrip."

His partner, Jake Hurley, obeyed, following the signs directing them to the smaller airfield reserved for private aircraft and avoiding the chaos and congestion of the main terminal. "Are you sure this is going to work?" Hurley asked nervously, glancing in the rear view mirror. Several airport security vehicles had now joined the numerous Bayport police cars that had been pursuing them since their hair-raising escape from the supermarket.

"Positive," Gus replied, oozing confidence. He gestured to his right and then held on to the door handle as Hurley made the sharp turn.

"Hey! This goes right out onto the runway!" Jake cried out. "And those gates are shut!"

"Ram them," Whitley ordered without batting an eye. "It's an armored truck; the gates won't even make a dent."

The armored vehicle sped up and crashed through the gates, the sound of metal against metal worse than nails on a chalkboard. The truck shuddered but kept on going. Behind them, the police cars and security vehicles slowed and then stopped. Several officers jumped out and began gingerly picking their way through the twisted scraps of metal and chain link fencing, trying to clear a path.

"Now what?" Jake demanded, glancing at his friend. They were now on a course parallel to the private runways with the hangars on their left and the runways on their right.

His partner eyed the hangars speculatively until his eyes lit on an open door. "There!" Gus cried out, pointing to the large building. Just inside the doorway stood a sleek white private jet. "Pull in and stop."

Jake looked at him as if he were insane. "Are you _CRAZY_?"

"Just do it!" Gus yelled, irritated. Lifting his gun he checked the ammunition and let the safety off.

Muttering under his breath, Jake did as his partner ordered. He'd barely come to a complete stop when Gus bolted from the truck. As soon as he'd parked, he jumped out and joined Whitley at the rear of the truck. Gus had his gun drawn and was pointing it at the door to the rear of the vehicle. "Open it," Gus said.

Jake pulled out the keys and unlocked the door pulling it open. Their hostages were huddled against the back wall. Stepping back as Gus climbed into the truck, Jake glanced over his shoulder nervously. The sirens were still a ways off, their pursuers having been slowed down by the mangled remains of the gate, but they were growing louder by the second.

"Give me a hand," Gus' voice grabbed his attention. Jake turned just in time to see the young woman they'd taken hostage come tumbling out of the truck, landing hard on the ground at his feet. "Get her on the plane!"

Without hesitation, he grabbed the girl around the waist, pressing his gun to her temple. "Do exactly as I say or you die!" he hissed. She whimpered softly, but nodded as he shoved her forward, toward the open door of the private jet. Jake forced her up the small set of stairs and into the plane, shoving her roughly into the closest seat. "Shut up and stay put!" he ordered, aiming his gun directly at her head.

Seconds later he heard Gus, dragging something up and into the plane. Stepping back so he was out of the way, he watched as Gus threw their second hostage on the seat next to the girl.

"Is he dead?" he asked, as the young male's head lolled to the side. He watched for a moment as the girl pulled the boy towards her. Tears streaking her cheeks, she held him gently, murmuring his name over and over.

"Nah, he's fine," Gus replied as he pulled the stairs up, shutting and locking the door of the aircraft. "Just passed out."

"Okay," Jake turned to face his partner, thoroughly irritated. Nothing had gone according to plan! "We're in a private plane neither one of us knows how to fly. We're cornered in a hangar, with two hostages and no money!" he said hotly. "Now what?!"

Gus flopped down in the seat opposite their hostages and pulled out a cell phone. Pressing three buttons, he held the phone to his ear and smiled. "Now we make our demands." Gus looked at the girl and winked. "I bet they've got a white Christmas in Canada."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Many, many thanks to everyone who is reading. Hope you continue to enjoy the story. :-)

**I'll Be Home For Christmas**

**Chapter 6**

Laura and Andrea stood in front of the supermarket huddled close together, fear for their children shrouding them like a heavy blanket. Laura's eyes had been repeatedly drawn to the dark red stain glistening on the ground just outside the supermarket doors as Con's pronouncement echoed in her ears – _"Joe's been shot" –_ opening up an ever-growing hole in her heart. How much of that large pool of blood belonged to the critically injured guard and how much of it was her son's? She tore her eyes away from the grisly scene, glancing at her husband.

He and Frank were talking animatedly with Con Riley and Ezra Collig, Bayport's Chief of Police, who had arrived moments earlier. Fenton crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head emphatically while Frank stood shoulder to shoulder with his father and silently glared at the two police officers. Laura couldn't help but smile to herself, not even needing to hear the conversation to know what was being said. She was certain Chief Collig had asked Frank and Fenton to let the police handle it, more out of protocol than any belief he had that they might agree. Fenton and Frank had obviously responded with something along the lines of _"Over my dead body," _leaving Laura with a sense of relief despite her fear for her child. She had the utmost confidence in the Bayport Police Department but if Joe's life was in danger, there was no one she trusted more to bring him home safely than her husband and son.

She sighed heavily as Fenton turned and started towards her. Laura knew exactly what was coming and despite understanding it was necessary, she still hated it. Her husband approached, stopped in front of her and silently took her in his arms, holding her close. She leaned against him soaking up the strength that seemed to be a part of his soul. Slowly he pulled away, holding her at arm's length. He glanced at Andrea and then stared into Laura's eyes.

"Frank and I are going to assist in the negotiations for Joe and Vanessa," he began, as Andrea cut him off with a startled gasp.

"You know where they are?" she exclaimed.

"There was one police cruiser pulling into the parking lot as the armored truck pulled out so yes, they've been able to follow it right from the start," he explained. "Last report is they seem to be headed for the airport. My guess is they're going to try and trade Joe and Vanessa for a plane ride out of here."

Laura swallowed hard as her stomach lurched and then turned to ice. She realized Fenton wasn't being completely honest, probably in an effort not to send Andrea off the deep end again. Having lived with a detective – three detectives! – for so many years, Laura had learned a few things. One of them being, criminals holding hostages always had the upper hand and they would never give up that leverage – or their hostages – simply because the police promised to meet their demands. No, it made more sense for them to keep their hostages, or at least one of them, until they had safely arrived at their destination.

Laura looked away, blinking rapidly. If it came to that, and the thieves had to give up one hostage to get what they wanted, whom would they give up and who would they keep? Would it make more sense to take the injured hostage along for the ride? Would they think an injured and disoriented male hostage would be easier to manage? Or would they prefer an uninjured female hostage, assuming she'd be easier to intimidate and control?

"Laura, honey."

She felt her husband squeezing her arm and looked up at him.

"You and Andrea go back to our house and wait. I'll call you the second we know anything. I promise."

Laura nodded mutely, accepted a kiss from Fenton and walked slowly towards Andrea's car.

"Excuse me, ladies," a male voice called out. Laura glanced at Andrea and they turned around. The elderly couple who had identified Joe and Vanessa in the picture were walking towards them.

"Yes?" Laura replied.

The couple shuffled a few more steps and stopped next to the car. The woman stared at them for a moment and Laura thought she saw tears in the elderly woman's eyes. She reached out and grasped both Laura's and Andrea's hands in a surprisingly strong grip.

"They're such a sweet couple," she smiled. "So in love with each other. That boy…he adores that little girl. It's in the eyes, you know. He couldn't take his eyes off her."

"Brave boy, that one," her husband chimed in. "Pushed his girl out of the way and then jumped right in to help that poor guard without a second thought for himself."

The woman gave their hands one more squeeze and leaned forward, her voice low and reverent. "We'll pray for your children tonight at Midnight mass. A Christmas miracle…" She nodded, as if she knew without a doubt her prayers would be answered. "God Bless." Without another word, the couple turned and walked away.

Laura stood frozen in place, trembling. _"Such a sweet couple… Brave boy… Without a second thought for himself… We'll pray for your children… a Christmas miracle."_ Numbly she turned and climbed into Andrea's car. As the two worried mothers pulled away from the supermarket and headed for home, the car radio droned low in the background.

"_I'll be home for Christmas,_

_You can count on me…"_

Laura's resolve crumbled and she let out a muffled sob as tears spilled down her cheeks. Just this morning she'd had so many Christmas wishes yet right now she had only one….

'_Please, God, bring my son home for Christmas...'_


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Once again, thank you to all who are reading:-)

**I'll Be Home For Christmas**

**Chapter 7**

After showing his I.D. to a security guard, Fenton pulled onto the small airstrip, dodging debris from a mangled gate. He easily located the hangar where the standoff was in progress by the multitude of police cars, fire trucks and ambulances parked outside it. Speeding down the narrow strip of road, he squealed to a stop and jumped out of the car, Frank right on his heels. They stopped next to Ezra Collig, who had a cell phone pressed to his ear and was listening intently, his eyes hard.

"Release one of the hostages and we'll talk," he snapped.

Fenton looked at Frank and raised his eyebrows. The thieves had already made contact! Shifting his gaze back to Collig, Fenton saw a muscle in the man's jaw twitch – apparently things weren't going well.

"Fine, then let me send a medic on board to check on the injured hostage."

Fenton held his breath. It was a long shot, but he could hope. Before he could even get his hopes up they were dashed by a flash of anger in Collig's eyes and a shake of his head.

"Well, at least let me speak to him so I know he's still alive."

Collig listened for a moment, then swore under his breath and flipped the cell phone shut. He exhaled loudly. "They want us to load the money bags from the armored truck into the baggage compartment of the plane. From the position of the truck and the plane, they can clearly see if we don't comply. They also want a pilot to fly them to Canada. They said once they are safely on the ground in Canada, they'll release Joe, Vanessa and the pilot."

"Both of the thieves are in there?" Fenton asked, glancing inside the hangar. His heart ached knowing his injured son was only a few yards away, yet there was nothing he could do for him.

"Mm-hmm," Collig nodded, following Fenton's gaze. "My sniper has a clear shot at the one sitting in the cockpit but the other one…we haven't been able to get a visual on him yet."

"What about Joe and Vanessa?" Frank asked, worriedly. "Can you see them?"

"At first we only saw Vanessa. Joe must have been on the floor or the seat…we finally saw him sit up a moment ago," Collig replied.

"How does he look? Is he okay?" Fenton asked, the concern in his eyes and his voice a stark contrast to the outward calm he projected.

Collig hesitated a moment. Truth was Joe looked terrible. The right side of his jacket was covered with blood and at first glance Collig hadn't even been sure he was still alive; not until Joe had turned and looked at Vanessa. "He looks pale, shaky, but he was conscious," Collig answered. He then signaled to Detective Riley, who had been seated in a police van, apparently listening to Collig's conversation on a headset. "We'll start loading the money now but that plane isn't going to be leaving anytime soon."

"Why not?" Frank demanded.

"I don't have a licensed pilot in my department. I've requested one from Southport but it'll take a few hours for him to get here."

Frank was already shaking his head no. "No good, Chief. They'll never agree to wait that long."

"It's Christmas Eve, Frank! They have a skeleton staff on tonight – everyone is home with their families!"

"And I'd like to be home with my brother!" Frank snapped angrily. "Preferably alive and in one piece!"

"Frank," Fenton said quietly, putting a hand on his son's shoulder. Frank could remain calm and cool under the most trying of circumstances – except when his brother was involved. Then all bets were off; Frank would do anything for Joe and would allow no one – the chief of police included – to get in his way.

Collig sighed heavily, his anger dissipating around him. Knowing how close the Hardy brothers were, he couldn't imagine how difficult this was for Frank. "I can't ask a civilian pilot to risk their life flying two armed men and two hostages out of the country," he explained. "And you know as well as I do, Frank, that the object _isn't_ to meet their demands, it's to find a way to infiltrate and get the upper hand."

"And we can do that without wasting two hours, or putting Joe and Vanessa in any more danger than they're already in." Frank replied pleadingly. He glanced at Fenton and for a moment, Fenton wasn't sure he was reading Frank correctly. But when Frank's eyes hardened, Fenton knew what Frank was going to suggest – and that he _wasn't_ going to take no for an answer.

"Frank wants to be the pilot," Fenton said, directing his statement to Collig but never taking his eyes off his son.

"_What_?!" Collig bellowed. "NO! Absolutely not!" He stopped and stared at Fenton, disbelief all over his face. "Fenton, they already have Joe! Hell, they _shot_ him! And now you're willing to hand your other son over to them on a silver platter?"

Fenton held Frank's gaze for a long moment, seeing the unconditional love Frank held for his younger brother welling up from somewhere deep in his soul. It wouldn't matter how Fenton replied to Collig's question. Frank wasn't going to let anyone stand in the way of him getting his brother off that plane.

"He's already made his decision," Fenton said quietly, silently nodding his assent to Frank.

"Well, it's not his decision to make!" Collig fired back. "It's mine and I am NOT putting another innocent civilian on that plane!"

Frank turned to face the chief. Fenton watched silently, wondering how Frank was going to change the man's mind. He had no doubts Frank would end up on that plane one way or another…

"Chief," Frank began calmly. "You yourself said it would take a few hours – minimum – to get an officer here who knows how to fly. You also said the objective is to turn the tables on these guys; capture them without putting Joe and Vanessa in any further danger."

Collig nodding grudgingly, but remained silent.

"We're at an _airport_, Chief. Do you honestly think these guys are going to believe it'll take over two hours to find a pilot at an airport? They were smart enough to pull off this heist. If you try and stall them too long, they're going to know you're planning something."

As if on cue, Collig's cell phone rang. Snapping it open he lifted it to his ear. "Collig," he said simply. "No, first you need to release one of the hostages-" Apparently cut off, he listened for a moment and then snapped the cell phone shut, returning it to his pocket. He stared out at the bright lights of the runway as he spoke. "If we don't have a pilot on the plane in five minutes, they're going to kill one of the hostages."


	8. Chapter 8

**I'll Be Home For Christmas**

**Chapter 8**

Frank shivered as Collig's words sank in. He suddenly felt the cold December wind seeping into him, into his bones. Two hostages; one male, one female. One injured. They really only needed one hostage to get their demands met. Two armed men would assume a female would be easier to intimidate, easier to handle. An injured man would just slow them down. Frank swallowed hard, knowing deep in his heart if he didn't get on that plane, Joe wouldn't live to see another Christmas.

"Well," Frank said quietly, his eyes riveted on Chief Collig. "Are you ready to hear my plan now?"

Collig glanced at Fenton, who laid a supportive hand on Frank's shoulder. He nodded in defeat.

"I can go onboard immediately," Frank started shifting his gaze between his father and the chief. "Once I'm in the cockpit I'll start the preflight check. Assuming these guys know nothing about flying a plane, I'll turn on the intercom between the cockpit and the control tower." He stopped and looked directly at Chief Collig. "You can station a man in the tower; he'll be able to hear everything going on in the plane."

Collig held up a hand to stop Frank and turned to Con Riley. "Get a man up in the control tower – _now_!" he yelled, then turned back to Frank. "Go on…"

"You'll have to let me actually taxi out of here and take off." Frank glanced at his father when he spoke again. "I'll have to see what kind of shape Joe is in – if he'll be able to help subdue them or not. If it doesn't look like he'll be able to help, I'll use the autopilot so Vanessa and I can do it ourselves. It'll be a little trickier and I'll have to improvise…" he shrugged. "But all I have to do is catch them off guard long enough to get the guns. Even if Joe's out of it, Vanessa and I can tie them up, and after what they did to Joe she'll be more than happy to take them out if they so much as blink. Then it's just a matter of flying back here and getting Joe to a hospital."

Collig listened to Frank's plan, not liking it one bit, but the sinking feeling in his stomach told him they had no other choice. "Too many civilians involved," he muttered, shaking his head. "We don't know how badly Joe is hurt, if Vanessa will freeze under pressure…there are too many variables!"

"Maybe," Frank acquiesced. "But there is one thing we know for certain."

Collig arched an eyebrow in a silent question.

Frank looked at his watch and then back at Collig. "If I'm not on that plane in three and a half minutes, Joe's a dead man."

oooOOOooo

Laura and Andrea returned to the Hardy home and began their vigil; a vigil no parent should ever have to go through, especially on Christmas Eve. Despite the shared fears they were both silent, each lost in thoughts and memories of her own child. Laura walked to the Christmas tree and stared at it, mesmerized. The brightly twinkling lights that had brought her such joy only a few hours ago now brought her a sorrow so intense she felt it in her bones. What right did this tree have to be so beautiful when her child was hurt, suffering…

"_I'll be home for Christmas_

_You can count on me…."_

She reached out and gently fingered an old, worn ornament made of fading green and red fabric.

"_Please have snow and mistletoe_

_And presents on the tree…"_

Laura wasn't even sure what it was anymore, but it was the first Christmas ornament Joe had made in kindergarten.

"_Christmas Eve will find me_

_Where the love light gleams…"_

He'd been so proud of it when he brought it home from school that day that he and Laura had immediately found a spot for it on the front of the tree. And it had retained that place of honor every year. Gently pulling the faded decoration from the branch, she held it to her chest, over her heart.

"_I'll be home for Christmas_

_If only in my dreams…" _

'_Please,'_ she thought desperately, looking at the angel atop the tree – Joe's miracle angel. _'Please bring my son home for Christmas.'_

Clutching the tattered ornament tightly, she bowed her head and cried…

oooOOOooo

Joe shivered and tried to open his eyes, his lids still too heavy to obey. He shifted and moaned involuntarily as a lightening bolt of pain scorched through his shoulder and down to his fingertips. Someone's arms tightened around him.

He inhaled a shaky breath and tried to focus on a whiff of perfume._ 'Vanessa…'_

"Joe? Joe, can you hear me?" Her voice sounded small, and very scared.

This time Joe forced his eyes open and saw a man staring back at him impassively. As everything came flooding back, pride won out over pain. Using his left arm, Joe pushed himself up to a sitting position next to Vanessa. If he was conscious and there was still a breath of life left in him, he was going to make sure anyone with the slightest intent of doing harm to Vanessa would have to go through him first.

"M'okay," he mumbled to Vanessa, trying his best to glare at the man watching them. As his mind cleared a little more, he looked around and realized they were seated in a small plane. Glancing out the window, he was relieved to see the plane was still in the hangar. His eyes grew wide as he also realized the plane was surrounded by police officers! That meant they still had a chance…

"No!" The single word caught Joe's attention and he turned to the front of the plane, now noticing the second man. He was seated in the small cockpit talking on a cell phone but twisted in the seat so he – and his gun – were facing Joe and Vanessa. "You seem to forget Chief, that _I'm_ the one holding the hostages therefore _I_ make the demands. Now for the last time, get me a pilot! If there isn't a pilot on this plane in five minutes, one of your precious hostages dies!"

Snapping the phone shut viciously, the man stuffed it in his pocket. He sat for a minute longer, watching the law enforcement officials scurrying around in the hangar. Getting up, he moved forward until he was standing in the small aisle, his eyes fixed on Vanessa. "If someone isn't here to fly this plane in five minutes, your boyfriend dies. And if they're stupid enough to think I'm bluffing after that, you'll die too."

Blinded by anger Joe tried to rise, protecting Vanessa the only thing on his mind. Before Joe could even move, the man who had threatened her grabbed his right shoulder and spun him around, twisting his arm behind his back.

'_NO!'_ Joe screamed the word silently to himself as dots danced in front of his eyes. Another tug on his arm sent him to his knees, pain washing over him in blinding waves. He heard Vanessa crying out, begging the man to release him. He felt a small trickle of blood running down his arm. Another hard tug and the trickle became a steady flow as everything started to fade into a gray haze. Fighting not to succumb to the darkness, Joe thought he heard some kind of commotion and the sound of a latch being released. He heard footsteps and the sound of the latch again, then another voice. A male voice, eerily familiar, swirled around him.

"I'm your pilot."

Finally he was shoved forward hard. Barely clinging to consciousness, Joe was certain delirium was setting in. The pilot had sounded exactly like Frank…


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Again, thank you to everyone who is reading. :-)**

**I'll Be Home For Christmas**

**Chapter 9**

Vanessa watched, terrified and helpless, as the man who had threatened her grabbed Joe by the shoulder – the right shoulder – and spun him around. Tears filled her eyes as she saw Joe fighting just to stay conscious. The man pulled on his arm violently and Joe fell to his knees.

"Stop, please!" Vanessa cried out. The man locked eyes with her and for a moment she hoped he'd do as she asked. Not taking his eyes off her, he gave Joe's arm another vicious yank and Vanessa choked on a sob. She heard Joe moan painfully and saw fresh blood soaking through the scarf.

"PLEASE!" she begged. "Stop! Leave him alone!" Vanessa prayed for a miracle, ready to do anything to get the armed man to release Joe. As she was about to voice that frightening thought, not knowing if the man would take her up on it, there was a loud banging on the door of the plane. All movement stopped, although the thug did not release his hold on Joe.

The second man stood to the side of the door peering out the small glass window. She heard a muffled voice from the other side but couldn't make out what was said. The man turned to his partner. "It's our pilot."

"Let him in…but frisk him. Make sure he's clean."

Vanessa's heart pounded in her chest. If the pilot was here, that meant they'd soon be airborne and on their way to Canada, where she knew they'd never make it back alive. Looking at Joe, she was on the verge of falling apart – was this really how they were doing to die? Desperate, Vanessa sent out one last prayer for a Christmas miracle. _'Please, God, help us!'_

Just then a shadow fell over them as a figure stepped through the doorway. Before Vanessa could turn to look at the newcomer, the man holding Joe released him with a shove. Dangerously close to losing consciousness, Joe tumbled forward landing half on the floor, half on Vanessa's lap.

Vanessa reached out and grabbed him before he hit the floor, desperately trying to hold Joe upright. She watched him struggling to look at her, to focus, to stay conscious when a familiar voice cut straight to her heart.

"I'm your pilot."

Vanessa's head snapped up and her mouth dropped. Frank Hardy was standing just inside the plane staring at her. He moved his head slightly and she realized he was signaling her – _'You don't know me!'._ Wrapping her arms around Joe, she imperceptibly nodded her understanding and tried to haul Joe back into the seat. As his dead weight slipped from her arms, she looked up at Frank pleadingly. "C-can you help me? Please?"

Frank hesitated for only a second then brushed by the two thugs. "All passengers have to be belted in before we can even taxi out of the hangar," he said, brooking no room for argument.

Squatting down next to Vanessa he wrapped his arms around Joe's chest and slowly lifted him onto the seat, snapping the seat belt into place. Joe moaned and his eyes fluttered open. He looked at Frank, dazed and confused. Joe opened his mouth as if to speak and Frank looked at Vanessa, a flash of panic in his eyes. "Keep him quiet!" Frank hissed and quickly stood up.

Vanessa reached over and brushed the sweat soaked hair off Joe's face, murmuring softly to him. She watched as Frank's gaze lingered on Joe for a moment. Guilt filled his eyes as he slowly turned away….

oooOOOooo

Turning his back on his injured brother was one of the hardest things Frank had ever done, but if his cover was blown they would all die. Tempering his anger at the two men who had hurt Joe, Frank strode to the pilot's seat, refusing to look at them.

"Buckle up," he said tersely as he began the preflight check. One of the men took a seat directly across the aisle from Joe and Vanessa. The other, the one who'd been holding Joe when Frank arrived, sat in the co-pilot's seat.

"What are you doing?" Frank demanded. "Do you know how to fly?"

"If I knew how to fly I wouldn't need you, now would I?" the man shot back.

"Then what are you doing up here instead of back there with them?" Frank jerked his head towards the rear of the plane.

"I'm just keeping an eye on you, that's all."

Frank did a slow burn but kept his mouth shut, flipping switches and turning knobs.

"So did you volunteer for this job or were you drafted?" the man asked, curiously.

"I volunteered," was Frank's clipped reply.

A hand flashed out and grabbed his wrist. The man leaned close and stared at Frank, his eyes hard and cold. "Why?"

'_Crap, this wasn't part of the plan!'_ Frank fumed. He cursed himself, knowing he should have expected some kind of questioning. But he'd been too worried about simply getting on the plane and seeing for himself how badly Joe was hurt, and now he had to think on the fly.

"Shouldn't you be home with your wife on Christmas Eve?" the man asked.

"She left me," Frank said the first thing that popped into his mind. "Took my daughter too. Last year on Christmas Eve." Seeing the man was distracted by Frank's reply, he surreptitiously flipped the intercom switch. "I hate Christmas," Frank muttered, holding his breath.

He exhaled inwardly when the man chuckled sarcastically. "Yeah, I guess you would," he smirked and settled back in the seat.

"So how bad is he hurt?" Frank asked nonchalantly, jerking his head towards Joe.

"Beats me." the man shrugged indifferently, forcing Frank to use every ounce of self-control he possessed not to throttle him. "Took a bullet in the shoulder; been bleeding all over the damn place!" he said angrily. "He wouldn't be hurt at all if he didn't insist on playing hero."

Frank choked on the anger bubbling up in his throat and finished his preflight check. Glancing over his shoulder, he looked at Joe. Glazed blue eyes stared back at him through half-opened lids, as if Joe wasn't really sure he could trust what he was seeing. Frank shifted his gaze to Vanessa, who was pressing a bloodstained glove against Joe's arm, presumably to stop the bleeding. "Everybody buckled up?" he asked tightly.

After getting a round of affirmative responses, Frank fired up the plane's engines and slowly taxied out of the hangar.


	10. Chapter 10

**I'll Be Home For Christmas**

**Chapter 10**

Through half-closed eyes, Joe stared at the dark brown hair of the man in the pilot's seat; the man who'd helped Vanessa get him up and buckled in his seat. He hissed as Vanessa pressed down on his shoulder, the bleeding having started anew.

"Sorry, Babe," she murmured, her voice weary.

He focused on the back of the pilot's head partly to keep his mind off what Vanessa was doing, and partly because…

'_Nah, can't be…'_ Joe thought. Yeah, he'd been barely holding onto consciousness at the time, but the guy had looked so much like Frank it was scary! If he hadn't been so loopy from the pain, he would have _sworn_ it was Frank…but that couldn't be. Frank didn't even know what had happened or where he was. He must have been hallucinating, _wishing_ his brother were here. But that voice_… "I'm the pilot." _

Joe stared harder, practically willing the man to turn around – and then he did. _'Frank?!' _Joe blinked, wanting to believe what he was seeing but still a little unsure, until the man spoke again.

"Everybody buckled up?"

Joe closed his eyes and rested his head back against the seat, relief flooding through him. Frank WAS here! He felt the plane lurch and realized they were leaving the hangar.

'_Distraction…he needs a distraction.'_ Joe was cognizant enough to know he'd be useless in a fight. Providing a distraction however, was definitely within the realm of possibility. If he could do something to distract one of the men….His eyes drifted across the aisle to the man who was supposed to be watching him and Vanessa. They'd barely made it out of the hangar and he was already looking a little green! _'Know how ya feel, pal,'_ Joe silently commiserated. While he'd gotten used to flying in small aircraft, he couldn't honestly say he enjoyed it.

Reaching up with his left hand, he tugged gently on Vanessa's arm. Immediately she leaned down close to him, brushing a hand against his cheek. "Are you okay, Baby?"

Joe smiled at the warmth of her hand on his face. Despite the sweat periodically dripping down his forehead, he was shivering inside. "Distraction," he murmured.

"What?" Vanessa asked, leaning closer still, worry filling her blue-grey eyes.

"Distraction," Joe repeated. "Frank…needs a distraction."

"Now?!" Vanessa hissed in surprise.

Joe shook his head ever so slightly. He was thinking clearly enough to know a distraction before they got airborne would be suicidal. Frank wouldn't be able to leave the cockpit while they were taxiing or taking off. Joe understood he was in no shape to subdue anybody, which left Vanessa. _'When hell freezes over!'_ Joe thought to himself about putting his girlfriend in such a dangerous position. Although he knew if she thought that was the only way to get them out of this mess, she wouldn't hesitate for a second.

Once they were at cruising altitude, however, Frank could put the plane on autopilot. If Joe could distract the thug across the aisle, maybe get him to drop his gun, Frank and Vanessa, between the two of them, could handle it from there – at least he hoped they could. If not, _none_ of them would be home for Christmas!

"When we get airborne," Joe murmured, turning his head towards Vanessa. "He can use the autopilot; take out the guy up front."

"Okay," Vanessa nodded, her eyes drifting towards the man seated a few feet away from them, and she almost smiled. She leaned her head close to Joe's ear and whispered, "We haven't even taken off yet and he looks like he's gonna barf. We can take him."

Joe grinned and nodded. _'That's my girl!_'

"So what's the distraction? And when?" she asked, gently stroking his cheek again.

Joe leaned into her touch and opened his eyes, her lips only inches away. Leaning forward, he kissed her gently. "I'll tell you when." Feeling the plane rapidly gaining speed for take-off, he closed his eyes and waited…

oooOOOooo

Vanessa held Joe's hand loosely in hers, glancing across the aisle at the man who was supposed to be watching them. Now that they were actually in the air, at cruising altitude she presumed as they had leveled off several minutes earlier, he looked decidedly…green. Her eyes drifted to Joe and she frowned. He'd seemed to be improving, talking to her coherently about a distraction but then Frank took off.

The pressure of increasing the speed enough to get airborne and then their rapid ascent had taken a toll on Joe. The force of gravity pressed them all back into their seats – and added additional painful pressure to Joe's shoulder. He didn't make a sound but gripped the armrest with his left hand so hard Vanessa thought for sure it was going to snap off! And he hadn't moved or spoken a word since.

Watching him worriedly, Vanessa brushed her lips where he'd kissed her only moments ago, her eyes getting misty. While she had planned on spending some quality time alone with Joe under the mistletoe this evening, this was definitely _not_ how she had envisioned their Christmas Eve turning out! She felt the fear she'd been fighting all night trying to creep up on her and forced it back down. No! She was not going to break now! These men had taken too much from her tonight – from Joe – and they were not going to get away with it. Letting the fear rise to the surface she turned it into white-hot anger and glared, first at the man across the aisle and then the one in the co-pilot's seat. They _would_ pay….

"Ready?"

Joe's voice was so soft, Vanessa almost didn't hear him. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze in response and tensed, feeling a rush of adrenaline shoot through her. She heard a 'click' and looked down. Joe had unbuckled his seatbelt.

Clumsily he lurched forward, grabbing the seat back in front of him for leverage.

"Hey!" the man across the aisle shouted. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Gotta go home," Joe mumbled.

"Home? What the – Are you crazy?!"

"Home!" Joe shouted, this time, half rising out of his seat.

Following his lead, Vanessa undid her seatbelt and stood next to Joe. "He's delirious!" she cried out, putting an arm around him protectively.

"HOME!" Joe yelled. "Gotta go home!"

"Hey! What's going on back there?!" The man seated next to Frank turned and glared at them angrily.

"HOME!" Joe demanded again, stumbling into the aisle and falling forward.

"Get him back in his seat!" the man shouted to his partner. "NOW!"

Vanessa felt every muscle in her body tense. Pretending to try and get Joe back in his seat, she watched out of the corner of her eye as the man across from them unsnapped his seat belt. He stood up warily, unsure and unsteady on his feet. Holding his gun loosely in one hand, he tried to step into the aisle in front of Joe. He reached for Joe, and Vanessa held her breath.

Suddenly Joe stood up, the back of his head connecting solidly with Jake Hurley's jaw. The gun flew from his hand and skittered to the floor between their feet. Immediately Vanessa dropped to her knees and reached for it. Her fingers brushed against it but before she could grab it Hurley's foot moved, making contact with the gun and sending it sliding down the aisle towards the cockpit. Rapidly crawling towards it, Vanessa snaked her arm out and was just about to grab the gun when she heard a click.

"Touch it and die."

She looked up and saw Gus Whitley walking towards her, his gun aimed at her head.

oooOOOooo

Frank had immediately recognized Joe's distraction for exactly what it was and silently thanked his younger brother. Slewing a glance to his right, Frank saw Whitley twist in his seat, glaring over his shoulder. Frank held his breath, willing the man to get up - to move! - but he just sat, staring.

"What's going on back there?" Frank asked.

Whitley cursed and unbuckled his seat belt. Standing up, he pulled out his gun, muttering, "Shoulda killed him when I had the chance."

Frank quickly turned on the autopilot and unbuckled his seat belt when he heard Whitley's voice, the words sending a chill down his spine.

"Touch it and die."

Frank bolted from the seat and turned, momentarily stunned at what he saw. Vanessa was kneeling in the aisle, her right arm outstretched just inches shy of Hurley's gun. She was looking up at Whitley, who had a gun aimed directly at her, terror in her eyes. Several feet behind her, Hurley and Joe were locked in a fight, with Hurley clearly getting the upper hand.

Rushing forward, Frank wrapped his left arm around Whitley's neck. He grabbed Whitley's right wrist and yanked hard, pointing the gun towards the ceiling. "Drop it!" Frank hissed in his ear.

Whitley simply grunted, trying to lower his arm, while Frank applied just enough leverage to negate his efforts. Frank tightened his arm around Whitley's neck, applying pressure and slowly cutting off his air supply. At the same time Frank shoved his knee forward, catching Whitley behind the knee. Whitley went down, Frank wrenching the gun from his grasp

Just then a painful scream pierced the air. Frank's heart stopped and he looked towards the back of the plane. Hurley had finally won the battle and was holding Joe in front of him like a human shield, his fingers mercilessly digging in to Joe's shoulder.

He heard a gasp and a movement caught his eye, momentarily distracting him. Whitley twisted suddenly, breaking Frank's hold as both Whitley and Vanessa dove for the gun lying in the aisle. Vanessa's fingers closed around it a split second before Whitley's, but her victory was short-lived as Whitley grabbed her wrist and yanked hard, dragging her towards him.

Lunging forward, Frank raised the gun in his hand and brought it crashing down on Whitley's head, smiling in grim satisfaction when the man fell limply to the floor. Grabbing Vanessa's arm he pulled her up and shoved her forward, the two of them racing towards Joe and Hurley.

"Don't come any closer!" Hurley yelled. When they didn't stop, he gripped Joe's shoulder even tighter and the anger Frank had tried so hard to tamp down, roared to the surface. Joe stared at him, his eyes glazed and uncomprehending.

"Let him go," Frank demanded, his gun trained on the two of them. He cursed silently as he realized he couldn't get a clear shot at Hurley without hitting Joe.

"Uh-uh." Hurley shook his head. "Put the guns on the floor and kick them to me."

"We will!" Vanessa suddenly spoke up, her voice high and shaky. Frank glanced at her, momentarily confused. She continued walking rapidly towards Joe and Hurley.

"No, no," Hurley insisted. "Stay there. Put it on the floor! Kick it to me!"

But Vanessa kept walking, waving the gun and leaving Frank to follow her lead – whatever it was.

"You can have it!" Vanessa rushed the last few steps, shoving the gun towards him. "Here!" As she got within arms reach of Hurley she shoved the gun towards his face. Frank saw a blur of movement as Hurley flinched backwards, loosening his hold on Joe. Vanessa grabbed Joe's jacket and pulled him towards her, the two of them tumbling to the floor.

Frank didn't even stop to think, acting solely on instinct. The second Joe was out of his line of sight, Frank pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed off the walls of the small, enclosed space. For a brief moment the only sound was the drone of the plane's engine, as the autopilot kept it on the same steady course. Then Frank heard Vanessa's trembling voice.

"Joe? _Joe!_ Come on, Baby, talk to me."

Frank kept his gun trained on Hurley, who had collapsed into one of the seats, clutching his left arm. _'Answer her! Answer her!' _he silently pleaded with his brother.

"M'okay."

'_Thank you!'_ Frank let out a sigh of relief as he heard his brother's voice, slurred but cognizant. Vanessa struggled for a moment, but finally managed to get Joe into one of the seats. She stood hovering over him worriedly.

"Van, there should be a first aid kit and something that looks like a tool kit in the rear galley," Frank said, keeping his eyes on Hurley, not trusting the man even with a gunshot wound. "Go get them."

Vanessa nodded, disappearing towards the back of the plane. Keeping his gun trained on Hurley, Frank crouched down in the aisle next to Joe's seat. "How ya doing?" he murmured, wanting to look at his brother to see for himself, but not daring to take his eyes off Hurley until he was properly restrained.

"M'okay," Joe repeated tiredly. "Shoulder hurts like hell, man."

"Yeah, I bet it does," Frank reached out and patted his leg. "Just hang in there a little longer, okay?"

Joe nodded and closed his eyes, leaning heavily against the seat back.

Vanessa came rushing up the aisle. "Found 'em," she said breathlessly.

"Good. Open the tool kit and see if there's something in there we can tie them up with," Frank requested. He heard Vanessa rooting around inside the kit and then a shout.

"Rope!" she cried out.

"Tie this one up first," Frank jerked his head towards Hurley. When the thug looked up at him, Frank glared. "If you even think of trying something…" he let the threat hang in the air. Hurley glared at him, but didn't move as Vanessa bound his wrists and ankles. When she was finished Frank waited as she hastily tied a pressure bandage around Hurley's arm, smiling to himself when Hurley gasped. Vanessa obviously had no intentions of being gentle.

When she was done, Frank stood and took the coil of rope from Vanessa. "Okay, take care of Joe now," he said, and heard Vanessa give a sigh of relief.

Turning, Frank walked back to the front of the plane where Gus Whitley was just showing signs of regaining consciousness. Laying the gun on the floor out of the man's reach, he jerked Whitley's arms out from under him and roughly pulled them behind his back, winding the rope around his wrists several times. Whitley groaned and opened his eyes, peering at Frank over his shoulder.

"I knew you were a cop!" he said disgustedly.

"No, I'm not," Frank replied, tying the rope off and making it just a little tighter than necessary.

"If you're not a cop, why do you care so much about those two?" he challenged jerking his head towards Joe and Vanessa.

Frank looked up at them. Vanessa was trying, as gently as possible, to get Joe's arm out of the sleeve of his jacket to clean and bandage the gunshot wound. Seeing the pain clearly etched on Joe's face, Frank's anger boiled over. He pulled Whitley up to a sitting position and grabbed a handful of his hair. Jerking his head back painfully, he forced the man to look directly at Joe. "That guy you shot…" he began, leaning down so his mouth was less than an inch from Whitley's ear. "He's my kid brother," he finished, his voice holding a threat of vengeance.

He glanced at Whitley and smiled when the man paled and then muttered a few choice words under his breath. "Yeah…_big_ mistake," Frank smirked, shoving his head forward.

"Frank?" Joe said, his voice not nearly as strong as Frank was used to hearing it. Quickly, Frank returned to his side, kneeling in the aisle.

"Right here, bro," he said, gently placing a hand on Joe's arm.

Joe looked at him, his eyes half closed. Now that he and Vanessa were safe, Joe was clearly showing the effects of what he'd been through. "Wanna ask you somethin'," Joe mumbled, grimacing as Vanessa finished taping a clean gauze pad in place.

"Sure, what is it?"

He motioned Frank a little closer, a spark briefly lighting his eyes. "Who's flying the plane?" he asked, managing a weak smile.

Frank stared at his brother and his throat suddenly went tight. The sparkle in Joe's eye, that lopsided grin… For a few short hours tonight, he wasn't sure he'd ever see them again and the feeling of loss momentarily overwhelmed him. Swallowing hard, he quickly recovered before Joe realized anything was wrong.

"Smart ass," he said huskily. Squeezing Joe's arm, he stood up and started towards the cockpit, side-stepping Gus Whitley who was still sprawled in the aisle where Frank had left him.

"Hey!" Whitley cried out as Frank passed by. "You can't leave me here!"

Frank stopped and turned, studying the man for a moment. He shrugged and then dragged him in between two rows of seats and left him there, wedged on the floor in the cramped space.

"What the – you said everyone had to be belted in!" Whitley hollered angrily.

"Yeah, I did, didn't I," Frank replied taking his seat and buckling up.

"Well?!" the man demanded. "Aren't you going to buckle me in?"

Smiling, Frank turned back towards Whitley. "No."

"B-but…you can't do that!!"

"Tell you what," Frank said amiably, knowing the man wouldn't suffer any ill effects during landing. "When we get back to the airport, you can report me to the F.A.A."

Frank picked up the microphone. "Bayport tower, this is six-eight-six, niner-zero-Charlie. The two suspects have been restrained. Our ETA is eighteen minutes. We'll need officers to take them into custody and two ambulances."

"Roger, six-eight-six, niner-zero-Charlie. Police and emergency personnel will be waiting on the runway."

Frank sat back and breathed a sigh of relief, his mother's favorite Christmas song planting itself contentedly in the back of his mind.

"_I'll be home for Christmas_

_You can count on me…."_


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Only one more chapter to go after this one. Thanks to everyone for reading, reviewing and giving such a warm welcome to a first time 'poster' here. :)**

**I'll Be Home For Christmas**

**Chapter 11**

Frank taxied the small plane to a stop, leaned back in his seat and took a deep breath, relaxing for the first time all night. Unbuckling his seat belt, he walked quickly towards the rear of the plane ignoring Whitley, who was still wedged on the floor between two rows of seats. Stopping next to Joe's seat he crouched down in the aisle and looked at his brother, concerned.

"How's he doing?" Frank asked Vanessa softly. Joe looked terribly pale, his breathing labored.

Vanessa shrugged and looked at Joe worriedly, gently stroking his cheek. "He passed out right after we turned back. At least his shoulder has stopped bleeding."

Frank's eyes strayed to his brother's shoulder and the blood-soaked jacket. He swallowed hard and squeezed Joe's leg. "You're gonna be okay, bro," he said softly.

Frank stood as someone pounded on the door of the aircraft. Walking to the door, he turned the latch and pushed the door open. Two police officers and two EMT's rushed up the short set of stairs. "Gunshot victims?" one of them asked.

"Him first," Frank said, pointing to Joe as he stepped aside to let them in.

Looking down he saw Ezra Collig, Con Riley, several more uniformed officers and his father, who was staring back at him anxiously. He felt someone take his arm and turned to see Vanessa looking at him, her tough façade rapidly disintegrating. As her eyes filled with tears, he wrapped an arm around her and hugged her tightly. The dam broke and she suddenly began crying, sobbing as she clutched his jacket.

"It's all over now, Van," he said softly, rubbing her back. "Joe's gonna be fine…you're fine…everything's okay." Glancing back down at his father, Frank realized he wanted – he _needed_ – to know how Joe was, but the small plane was rapidly growing crowded with police officers, EMT's and various pieces of medical equipment, so he was waiting patiently on the tarmac. "Come on," he nudged Vanessa towards the door.

Vanessa stiffened and turned back towards Joe; she didn't want to leave his side. And Frank knew exactly how she felt. Logically he knew Joe was safe now and that he'd be fine. Yes, he'd been shot and lost a fair amount of blood, but even Frank could see it wasn't fatal. Yet his heart was telling him not leave his brother, not to let Joe out of his sight. It had been close tonight…too close…

Frank took a deep breath, refusing to allow his imagination to run wild. Joe would be fine and the best thing he and Vanessa could do for Joe right now was get out of the way. "They'll take good care of him, Van." Frank tugged on her arm. "Come on, we need to give them room to work." Wiping her eyes with a shaky hand, Vanessa nodded and let Frank escort her down the steps.

Before he had both feet on the tarmac, Fenton was next to him looking, Frank thought, very scared. "How is he?" Fenton asked, his face clearly showing how worried he was.

"He'll be okay, Dad," Frank said trying to reassure his father so the details might not seem quite so bad. "He's got a bullet in his shoulder. It's been bleeding off and on," Frank reached out and squeezed his father's shoulder, seeing him pale even in the dim light given off by the planes running lights. "Dad, he'll be okay," Frank repeated.

Fenton nodded, not looking entirely convinced. Then he looked at Vanessa, whose pastel colored parka was stained red across the front, and Frank thought he saw his father sway slightly. Just then they heard a noise from just above them and turned towards the sound. The EMT's were carefully descending the stairs, balancing a stretcher between them, Con Riley and a uniformed officer assisting them.

Fenton, Frank and Vanessa stepped aside and watched in silence. When they reached solid ground, Fenton rushed forward and Con signaled the medics to give him a moment. Frank watched, his heart aching, as Fenton stood next to the stretcher and stared at his unconscious son. Reaching out, he rested his hand gently on Joe's forehead and continued staring. Finally he leaned over and whispered something in Joe's ear then straightened up and stepped back. "Thank you," he said huskily to the EMT's.

"Is she coming with us?" one of the medics asked Frank gesturing towards Vanessa.

"Probably a good idea," Frank agreed, looking at her. "You should get checked out…and you can ride in with Joe."

That was more than enough to convince her and Vanessa hurried along next to the stretcher, her hand resting on Joe's leg.

A few moments later, Hurley and Whitley were escorted from the plane. Hurley was placed in the second ambulance and Whitley in the back of a police cruiser, the three vehicles forming a strange caravan with sirens blaring and lights flashing.

When the last ambulance pulled away, Frank tiredly sank down on the bottom step of the plane's open door. As the siren faded into the distance and the red lights disappeared around a corner, Frank felt all the emotions he'd been keeping at bay for the past few hours suddenly rebounding on him. Not knowing how badly Joe had been hurt; not knowing if he'd be able to make it onto the plane and do something to help his brother; wondering if he'd celebrate this Christmas – and every one from here on out – as an only child…Frank felt his eyes start to burn. Unable to get a handle on his emotions, he dropped his head in his hands, trembling.

'_He's okay. He's alive. He's going to be fine,'_ Frank told himself, desperately trying to regain control.

"Frank?"

Frank snapped his head up, not having heard anyone approach. He saw his father staring down at him, his eyes welling up with tears. Reaching out, Fenton clutched Frank's shoulder and gently tugged on his jacket, wanting Frank to stand up. Pushing himself up, Frank stood eye to eye with his father, his eyes widening in shock when one lone tear slid down his father's cheek.

"Thank you," Fenton choked out, pulling Frank into a hug. "Thank you…"

Slowly Frank put his arms around his father, suddenly calm. "Don't worry, Dad," Frank said softly, patting his father on the back. "Joe's gonna be fine."

oooOOOooo

Laura stood anxiously just inside the emergency room doors, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Periodically, she'd walk to the door and look outside, willing the ambulance carrying her injured son to suddenly appear. Beside her, Andrea Bender put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"They're going to be fine, Laura," she said, trying to offer a little support.

"I know," Laura whispered, her voice shaky. "I – I just need to see him for myself."

Andrea hugged her tightly. "I know…I know exactly what you mean."

Moments later a siren sounded in the distance, rapidly growing louder, until it stopped with a final, earsplitting wail just outside the door. Red strobe lights fell across the room, giving an eerie effect to the brightly colored Christmas decorations the staff had put up. Laura and Andrea leaned forward, trying to see what was going on outside and trying their best not to rush forward in search of their children.

Suddenly the automatic door opened and a shaky looking Vanessa walked in, an EMT holding loosely to her elbow. The first thing Laura noticed was that her light blue parka was heavily splattered with blood.

'_Joe's blood,'_ she thought, shaking.

"Vanessa!" Andrea cried out rushing forward and grabbing Vanessa in her arms.

"Mom!" Laura heard Vanessa's muffled sob and watched the emotional reunion, feeling a twinge of envy.

Suddenly a stretcher appeared behind Vanessa and Laura sucked in a breath. The EMT's expertly steered around the crying mother and daughter and Laura got her first look at her son, his face so pale he almost blended into the white linen. She gasped and rushed forward, only to be restrained by one of the EMT's.

"Please," she clutched his arm pleadingly. "He's my son."

The man looked at his partner, who nodded and the two discreetly stepped back.

Laura grasped the rails of the stretcher, looking down at Joe, her eyes drawn to the blood-soaked jacket. Reaching out she gently stroked his hair, tears filling her eyes. Leaning down, she pressed her lips gently to his forehead, letting them linger there for a moment, not wanting to break her only connection to him. When Joe moaned and moved his head, she straightened up slightly.

"Joe? Honey? Can you hear me?" she said softly, touching his cheek.

Slowly, glazed blue eyes opened, trying to focus on her. "Mom?" His voice was soft and uncertain.

"I'm right here, baby," she replied, reaching up to wipe the tears from her eyes.

Joe looked at her and blinked. "S'okay, Mom," he mumbled as his eyes slid closed again. "Don't cry…I'll be home for Christmas."

Laura tried unsuccessfully to choke back the tears as Joe was wheeled away and disappeared behind the closed emergency room doors. Watching through blurred vision, she felt a strong, familiar arm encircle her shoulders. Turning, she buried her face in her husband's chest and sobbed.

oooOOOooo

"One, two, three."

Joe felt himself being lifted and moved from the stretcher he'd been on to a more stable surface. Still more out of it than in, he laid there listening to the medical personnel working around him. He groaned as he heard and felt the leather jacket being cut away from his body.

"Are you okay?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

"S'my favorite jacket," Joe mumbled miserably.

Bits and pieces of the chatter around him filtered through, though he didn't understand a lot of it. "Type and cross match….Saline….Two liters…surgery…anesthesiologist on call?"

"Joe? Can you hear me?"

Joe forced his eyes open and slowly looked around, trying to find the source of the voice.

"Joe, I'm Dr. Carruthers."

"Hey," Joe said weakly, focusing on the sandy-haired man looking down on him. "How's it goin'?"

"I think I'm doing a little better than you are at the moment," the doctor smiled. "I want to explain what's going to happen, okay?"

"Gonna take the bullet out?" Joe asked, finding it took a great effort just to keep his eyes open. "Hurts like hell," he muttered.

"Yeah, I bet it does," Carruthers agreed sympathetically. "Once we get the wound cleaned up a bit, we're going to take some blood."

Joe scowled and managed to roll his eyes, causing the doctor to laugh out loud.

"We need to get your blood type, so we can replace what was lost," the doctor smiled, obviously quickly having taken a liking to his patient. "Then you'll go up to x-ray so we can get an idea of how extensive the damage is. From there we'll take you straight to surgery so we can get that bullet out, okay?"

"Sounds good to me," Joe mumbled. "Then I can go home?" he asked, trying to stay focused on the doctor, getting annoyed at all the people poking and prodding him and the way his eyelids suddenly seemed so heavy.

The man chuckled and shook his head. "I don't think you'll be in any shape to go home for at least a day or two," he replied, starting to turn away.

"No," Joe hissed, suddenly trying to sit up, letting out a cry of pain.

"Hey, easy, easy," Dr. Carruthers scolded, gently pushing Joe down.

Reaching up, Joe grabbed his lab coat and held on. "Hafta…go home!" Joe insisted, getting very agitated. "Promised…my mother…gotta be home…for Christmas!"

Dr. Carruthers took Joe's hand and gently removed it. "Okay, Joe," he said soothingly. "You just lie back and relax. We'll talk about it after your surgery, okay?"

"Goin' home," Joe mumbled his words beginning to slur as the painkillers and sedative he'd been given kicked in. "Wanna be home…for Christmas."

oooOOOooo

"Mr. and Mrs. Hardy? I'm Dr. Carruthers."

Laura jumped up from the seat where she'd been for the past few hours, sandwiched between Frank and Fenton; the three had waited mostly in silence for Joe's surgery to be completed. Frank had left for a short period of time to give a statement to the police, as had Vanessa. While Vanessa had insisted she wanted to stay until Joe was out of surgery, the girl looked overwhelmed and exhausted. It took some doing and Vanessa had fought them every step of the way, but finally they were able to convince her to go home. Laura had promised to call her first thing in the morning and let her know how Joe was and when he might be released.

"How is he?" Laura asked anxiously.

"He's in recovery now. The surgery went very well. The bullet lodged in his deltoid – the shoulder muscle – and stuck there, so there was no major damage to the shoulder joint itself or the surrounding tendons and ligaments," Carruthers smiled. "Athletes and those who are in excellent shape, like Joe, usually fare much better with any type of injury. The damage usually isn't quite as extensive and the recovery is quicker."

"Can we see him?" Fenton asked hopefully. While both Laura and Frank had spoken to Joe at some point, Fenton had yet to talk to his son. And even though he knew, logically, that Joe would make a full recovery, he wasn't going to be able to believe it with his heart until he could talk to Joe himself.

"We'll be moving him to a private room as you requested," the doctor stopped and checked his watch. "Probably in the next thirty minutes or so. You can see him then for a few minutes before you go home."

"Thank you," Laura smiled as Fenton echoed her and shook the man's hand.

oooOOOooo

Joe heard voices swirling around him, floating in and out of consciousness. He tried to focus, unsure if they were speaking to _him_ and not really sure if he cared. Thanks to the painkillers he'd been given, he didn't really care about much of anything at the moment. Turning his head towards the voices, he tried to listen more intently.

"Joe?"

Someone was talking to him; someone familiar…

"Joe? Son? Can you hear me?"

Joe tried to respond affirmatively, heard some kind of sound come from his mouth and hoped it was a 'yes'. He felt a hand on his left arm and heard the voice again.

"Joe…open your eyes…." The hand squeezed gently. "Please?"

'_Dad?'_ Joe thought, confused. It sounded like his father but then again it didn't. His father's voice could be strong, commanding, angry, authoritative, funny…but this voice didn't reflect any of that. It sounded…scared.

"Joe…please…" the voice pleaded, heartbreakingly soft.

Slowly Joe forced his eyes open, blinking owlishly as everything blurred together for a few seconds. He heard a sound – a gasp? A sigh? A broken sob? – and then the face staring down at him came into focus.

"Dad," he managed, his voice ragged. He stared at his father and wondered just how strong the painkillers he'd been given really were. Was his father actually… crying?

"S'okay, Dad," he mumbled, reaching awkwardly for his father, who grasped his left hand tightly. "I'm okay…" Joe repeated, softly.

And through the tears, his father smiled…

oooOOOooo

Frank felt his mother tug on his arm and glanced at her. She motioned towards the door with her head. "Let's give your father a few minutes with him."

Frank nodded, slightly confused, and followed her out into the hall. Glancing back into the room as the door closed, Frank's eyes widened. His father had reached up and brushed his cheek as if….

"Mom," he blurted out. "Was Dad...?"

"Yes, he was," Laura replied, smiling sadly. She reached out and squeezed his arm, knowing neither of her sons had ever seen her husband cry. "Honey, you have to remember, until just now the last time he actually spoke to Joe was before he left to go to Vanessa's for dinner – before all of this happened. You spoke to Joe on the plane, right?"

Frank nodded, still a little confused.

"He was alert? He knew who you were? He talked to you?"

"Yeah," Frank said slowly.

"And when they brought him in to the E.R. he regained consciousness enough to talk to me. He knew who I was…told me not to cry," she repeated, her voice catching. Taking a deep breath she reminded herself it really was okay to relax now; Joe would be fine. "Remember how you felt when you first realized it was Joe who'd been shot and taken hostage?" Laura said softly.

Frank shuddered. "Yeah, I remember. Scared…" But he hadn't really been scared. He'd been terrified. An all-encompassing, absolute terror. He wasn't sure he'd ever see his brother alive again. Frank wrapped his arms around himself, a cold chill sweeping through him.

"And when did that feeling go away? When did you know – really believe in your heart – that Joe would be okay?" Laura asked, rubbing his back gently.

Frank looked at her for a moment, bewildered. "When I talked to him…" And then it clicked. "…and he _answered_." Frank glanced back at the door, suddenly feeling very sorry for his father. While Frank had been worried for the past few hours, he knew it was mostly just his nerves on overload. Joe had talked to him, even joked with him on the plane. He no longer had that crushing, paralyzing fear that he'd never see his brother again – never speak to him...

Frank just now realized that while his father had _seen_ Joe when he'd been taken off the plane, he hadn't been able to _speak_ to Joe. By the time Joe had been removed from the plane, he'd lapsed into unconsciousness. Frank pictured the scene in his mind, saw his father leaning over the stretcher, whispering to Joe and Joe unable to respond. Unconscious on the stretcher Joe had looked pale, ghostly…_dead_….

'_Oh, man,'_ Frank thought, his heart aching for his father. Fenton had spent the entire evening – Christmas Eve – all of it, terrified his youngest son wouldn't live to see Christmas Day. Just then the door opened and Fenton came out, his eyes red.

"He's asleep again," he said almost apologetically. Less than a minute ago Frank would have been annoyed that his father had 'monopolized' the few minutes Joe had been conscious and coherent. Now, seeing the way his father looked back at the closed door longingly, Frank wished it could have been longer.

Laura silently put her arms around her husband and held him tightly. Frank watched for a few seconds and then looked away, feeling as if he were intruding on a very private moment.

"I guess we can go now."

Frank turned back to his parents as his father motioned towards the elevator.

"You go ahead," Laura urged him and Frank. "I'm staying here."

Fenton looked at her, puzzled, and glanced at Frank. It wasn't as if Joe was in any danger or might take a turn for the worse during the night. "Honey," Fenton began. "He's sleeping. He isn't going to…he won't…" Frank watched his father tripping over the words, unable to say it – _"He won't die"_ – out loud.

"I'm staying," Laura repeated, her eyes flashing. "My children have never been alone on Christmas Eve. They've never woken up alone on Christmas morning. And that is _not_ going to start now." She fixed her husband with a look Frank knew all too well. There were times Laura Hardy was not to be challenged – and this was one of those times. "I'm staying."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Here is the final chapter. Hope you enjoy it. And thank you to everyone who took the time to read! It was very much appreciated! Since I celebrate Christmas – MERRY CHRISTMAS! But whatever holiday you celebrate, I hope it's a happy one for you. :-)**

**I'll Be Home For Christmas**

Chapter 12 

Joe shifted, inhaling sharply at the steady throbbing in his shoulder. He opened his eyes and saw his brother sprawled in the chair next to the bed, his long legs stretched out in front of him. "You're not Mom," he mumbled. When he'd awakened during the night when the pain medication had worn off, his mother had been sitting next to him, watching him worriedly.

"Gee, you don't miss a thing, do you?" Frank grinned, leaning forward. "Merry Christmas, bro," he said, his voice softer, huskier.

"Thanks," Joe smiled. "Merry Christmas. And thanks for the save."

"Thanks for the distraction," Frank responded. "How ya feelin'?"

"Like crap," Joe replied, patting the bed with his left hand.

"Here," Frank offered, picking up the remote control for the bed and handing it to him. After watching Joe fumble with the buttons and then curse at the device, Frank reached to take it back. "Let me do it," he said and slowly elevated the head of the bed until Joe nodded.

"How's Van?" Joe asked, his blue eyes clouding over in concern. "She didn't get hurt did she? Son of a—" Joe bit off what he was going to say. "Threw her in the truck, threw out onto the ground…"

"She's fine," Frank assured him. "Worried about you. I talked to her this morning. She can't wait to see you."

"Mmmmm…me, too. How's that guard?" Joe eyed his brother worriedly.

"Dad talked to Chief Collig this morning," Frank replied. "They did surgery on him last night. The bullet missed his heart by a few inches. Pierced his lung, though. He's still critical but they're pretty optimistic that he'll make a full recovery."

"Good," Joe nodded and squirmed, trying to get comfortable and finally giving up. "How long do I have to wear this thing?" he complained, tugging on the sling cradling his right arm. "And when can I go home? Told that doctor I wanted to go home today," Joe muttered. "And where's Mom?"

Frank stared at him, shaking his head and chuckling. "Any special order you want me to answer those in?" he asked, getting a dirty look from Joe in reply. "Mom and Dad went to get coffee. Mom stayed with you all night. Dad and I just got here about fifteen minutes ago.

"The doctor hasn't made his rounds yet this morning so can't I answer the other two questions for you, although I could probably make an educated guess if you want," Frank offered.

"No, thanks," Joe replied darkly. "I just wanna go _home_! I mean, it's Christmas! Nobody should have to be stuck in a hospital on Christmas. That's just…just…" Joe snorted and sank back against the pillows, unable to find a word to adequately express his displeasure.

Just then the door opened and Laura and Fenton walked in. "Joe, you're awake!" Laura exclaimed, a smile lighting her face. Immediately she put her coffee down on the rolling table and hurried to Joe's side.

"Hey, Mom." Joe smiled as she kissed him on the cheek. "Merry Christmas."

She cupped his face with one hand and simply stared at him. "Yes," she said softly. "It _is_ a merry Christmas…a _very_, merry Christmas."

Fenton walked to the opposite side of the bed and squeezed Joe's left arm affectionately. "How are you feeling?"

Joe grimaced and huffed unhappily. "Crappy, but I'd feel a whole lot better if I was home."

With uncanny timing it seemed, the door opened and Dr. Carruthers walked in, smiling at the Hardys. "Good morning, Joe," he greeted his patient. "Merry Christmas."

"Can I go home now?" Joe demanded, forgoing any pleasantries.

"One track mind," Frank muttered, shaking his head. "Good morning, Dr. Carruthers. Merry Christmas."

The doctor grinned good-naturedly at Joe's rather curt greeting and offered Frank and his parents warm holiday wishes. As he checked Joe's chart and then took his pulse, Joe continued, determined he was not going to spend Christmas Day in the hospital.

"I wanna go home," Joe said adamantly. "TODAY!"

Dr. Carruthers shook his head, "Joe, less than ten hours ago you were in surgery—"

"And you said we'd talk about it after my surgery but you just disappeared," he accused, jutting his chin forward. When the doctor looked at him in surprise Joe smiled triumphantly. "See? You thought I didn't hear that part, or wouldn't remember it." He shook his head. "I wasn't _that_ out of it, ya know."

"Apparently not," the doctor agreed, bemused and tried to recall if he'd _ever_ had a more difficult patient. Sighing he tried again. "Joe, you've lost a lot of blood—"

"And you put it all back, see?!" Joe protested, pointing to the now empty bag hanging from the IV stand.

Carruthers sighed again, fearing he was trying to fight a battle he couldn't possibly win. "No, we didn't put it _all_ back. We gave you enough to stabilize you. Your own body will produce the rest of it. But that takes time, Joe. Weeks to get your blood volume up to normal levels."

"Well I know you're not going to keep me here for weeks, so there's no reason I can't go home…._Now_!" Joe countered, knowing he had the upper hand.

Carruthers shook his head and looked towards Fenton and Laura Hardy.

Knowing how worried his parents had been, Joe panicked, thinking the doctor might convince them he should stay. Pulling out all the stops, Joe gave his best last-ditch effort to manipulate the situation to his own advantage. "Mom," he whined, turning pleading blue eyes on his mother. "It's _Christmas_! They took the bullet out, they gave me blood, they gave me IV fluids…the only thing they want me to do now is rest. And I can do that at home." Joe sat up a little, looking at Laura sadly. He really did just want to be home with his family on Christmas and the thought that that might not happen suddenly overwhelmed him. "I promised you, Mom…I promised I'd be home for Christmas…" he said softly. "Please…"

Laura stared at him and he thought he saw her chin quiver for a moment. She continued holding his gaze even as she spoke to the doctor. "Do you just want to keep him here as a precaution? For observation? Or is there something specific you're worried about?" she asked.

The doctor let out a long breath, apparently realizing his best ally had just defected to the other side. "No, nothing specific," he admitted. "It really is just precautionary." He looked from Joe to Laura and back again, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Fine, I give up. He can go home."

"Yes!" Joe exclaimed, then added a mumbled "Sorry," after getting a look from his father.

"You need to make sure he rests today," Carruthers explained. "ALL DAY," he emphasized looking at Joe meaningfully.

"Rest all day. Got it," Joe promised, clumsily crossing his heart with his left hand.

"I'll give you a prescription for pain killers and antibiotics and a few samples to get you through today since there are no pharmacies open." He pulled a prescription pad from his pocket and began scribbling. "And don't try to be a tough guy," he said to Joe, glancing up when Frank snorted softly. "Take the painkillers. One every eight hours."

"Promise," Joe agreed.

Carruthers shook his head and couldn't help but grin. "Is he always like this?" he asked no one in particular.

"Pretty much, yeah," Frank replied. "Annoying, isn't he?"

Carruthers looked up just in time to see Joe stick his tongue out at his older brother and laughed out loud. "Here," he handed the two prescriptions to Laura. "He'll probably sleep most of the day. Aftereffects of the general anesthesia and side effect of the painkiller. If he's talking to you one minute and drops off to sleep the next, don't worry, that's normal." Turning to Joe, he continued, "Keep that sling on and the arm completely immobile for the next few days. Don't get it wet. You'll need to make an appointment with your regular physician for later this week so he can check and make sure it's healing properly, although I really don't anticipate you'll have any problems."

Stepping to the side of the bed, Carruthers smiled at Joe and offered his hand. "Joe, you've definitely been one of my more…entertaining patients," he grinned. "Good luck, and have a Merry Christmas."

Joe shook the doctor's hand awkwardly with his left hand. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "For everything. Merry Christmas."

After a short round of "Thank you's", "Goodbye's" and holiday greetings from the rest of the Hardys, Dr. Carruthers left, leaving the family alone.

Joe started to push the sheet back, anxious to get home when he stopped and groaned. "Any chance my clothes didn't get cut to shreds?" he asked hopefully.

"Sorry, son," Fenton replied. "Whatever they didn't cut away was pretty well covered with blood. Not much they could salvage."

"Oh, man!" Joe wailed. "Now I have to wait while someone goes home and gets me some clothes," he pouted dramatically.

Frank sighed and rolled his eyes. "Guess that means me, huh? Okay," he said, heading for the door. "Be back in half an hour or so."

He quickly left, presumably to drive back to the Hardy home, so when Frank returned five minutes later Joe, Laura and Fenton all looked at him, puzzled.

"What's wrong?" Joe asked. "You're supposed to be going home to get me some clothes."

Frank smiled like a Cheshire cat and pulled a small duffel bag out from behind his back. "I packed it before we left this morning and threw it in the trunk," he explained in response to the three confused looks he was getting.

"You were that sure Joe would be released today?" Fenton asked.

"Oh, yeah. Not a doubt in my mind." Frank grinned. "That doctor is way too nice. He didn't stand a chance against Joe's relentless whining."

Joe heard his parents trying very hard not to laugh, and scowled at his brother. "Just gimme the stupid bag," he demanded, holding out his left hand.

Frank hesitated a moment as if he were going to say something, then shrugged and put the duffel on the bed easily within Joe's reach. Muttering under his breath, Joe futilely tried to unzip the bag several times. Unable to grip it and open it with his left hand, and with his dominant right hand virtually useless, he succeeded only in flinging the bag across the bed and onto the floor.

"Need a little help there, bro?" Frank asked, his face a picture of innocence.

"How humiliating," Joe grumbled, gracing his parents with a glare as they now laughed out loud. "Can't even dress myself."

"Personally, I can't wait for dinner," Frank said mysteriously, hefting the bag onto the end of the bed and unzipping it.

Joe narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. He had a feeling he wasn't going to find Frank's thoughts on Christmas dinner at all funny.

"Watching you try to eat with one hand…and your left hand at that! Should be pretty entertaining." He stopped and put a finger on his chin, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. "Hmmm….Wonder if I could sell tickets…"

"Hey!" Joe cried out, wishing Frank were close enough so Joe could smack him.

Spurred on by his parents' intermittent snickering, Frank continued musing aloud. "We could just scoot your chair over really close to Mom so she could help you eat, like when you were little. You're probably too big for the high chair now, though," he said, pulling clothes out of the bag and neatly laying them on the bed. Frank glanced innocently at Fenton and Laura, making sure he had their full attention. "I mean, a guy's gotta eat, right?" He then turned his eyes on Joe and smiled wickedly. "Even if he has to be spoon-fed by his mommy."

Joe's mouth dropped open and his face contorted into a look of horrified disbelief. For a moment, he was rendered speechless at the picture painted by Frank's speculations.

No longer able to hold it in, both Fenton and Laura burst out laughing, Fenton wiping a few stray tear from his eyes. Joe looked at his brother, trying to conjure up his best glare. "You're…you're…evil! Just plain…_evil_!" he accused, causing his parents to begin laughing anew.

"I'll wait out in the hall," Laura said, still laughing softly. Halfway out the door she paused and turned back to look first at Joe and then Frank. "Go easy on him, Frank. After all, it is Christmas."

oooOOOooo

Using his left hand, Joe awkwardly adjusted the blanket covering him and snuggled deep into the sofa, careful not to jostle his right arm. Staring at the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, he decided being an invalid at home on his own couch on Christmas, was infinitely better than being stuck in a cold, sterile and impersonal hospital room. Yet as happy as he was to be home, he found that Dr. Carruthers' predictions had been right on target. After getting dressed with some assistance from his father and brother, Joe had dozed in the backseat of the car on the way home. Once they'd arrived back at the house, Laura had fixed breakfast at Joe's request. Not having eaten since lunch the day before, he was starved.

However, the simple act of eating breakfast had tired him out and he'd gone from trading jabs with Frank over waffles one minute to suddenly feeling as if he could sleep for the next ten years. His mother had gotten him settled in on the couch, where he preferred to be rather than alone up in his room. At least down here he could gaze at the Christmas tree and hear the comforting sounds of his family as they bustled about the other rooms in preparation for Christmas dinner. Joe had spoken briefly to Vanessa when he arrived home and she and Andrea would be joining the Hardy family later on for dinner.

As Joe lay staring at the tree, Laura quietly appeared and knelt beside the couch, smiling at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Joe replied, yawning.

"Why don't you get some sleep then," she said, kissing him lightly on the cheek. As she stood, Joe reached out and caught her hand. "What is it, honey?" she asked. "Do you need something?"

"Not right now," Joe replied. "But when Vanessa gets here…" Joe tugged on her hand, pulling her towards him and whispered in her ear. She listened and smiled, then nodded and left the room.

Joe closed his eyes and just as he felt himself falling asleep he heard someone moving about in the room. Forcing his eyes open, he turned his head and saw Frank settling himself on the recliner, a book in hand.

"Hey," Frank said in greeting. "Thought I'd start on the book Callie gave me." He held it up for Joe to see. "Unless my being here will bother you…I can go upstairs to my room."

Joe stared at his brother and smiled, knowing full well why Frank chose to read his book in the living room with Joe rather than upstairs – alone – where he usually preferred to read. Joe suddenly shivered, remembering how many times the previous evening he'd wondered if he'd ever share another Christmas with his family. Normally, he hated everyone hovering over him but today, knowing how close he came to losing everything, there was nothing he wanted more.

"Nope," Joe said closing his eyes. "Won't bother me at all. In fact…I'd kinda like it…knowing you're right here if I need you." In seconds, Joe drifted off to sleep, missing Frank's soft reply.

"And I always will be, bro…"

oooOOOooo

Joe inhaled, the scent of roasting turkey and candied yams bringing a smile to his face. He lay on the couch, half-asleep and half-awake, simply enjoying the sounds and smells of his favorite day of the year. As his sleep-fogged mind began to clear, Joe got the very distinct feeling someone was watching him. Slowly he opened his eyes and saw Vanessa staring down at him, her eyes filled with a varying mix of emotions, the most prominent being love.

"Hey, Babe," Joe murmured, reaching out for her. "Merry Christmas."

Vanessa grasped his hand and leaned down, kissing him tenderly. "Merry Christmas, yourself." She carefully helped Joe to a sitting position and when he held out his left arm expectantly, eagerly settled on the couch next to him, snuggling into his embrace. As Joe kissed her again, he heard someone moving about behind them, placing something on the end table, and then the sounds of fading footsteps.

As they slowly separated, Joe glanced over Vanessa's shoulder and smiled. "Can you hand me one of those glasses?" he asked, gesturing behind her.

"What glasses?" Vanessa asked, confused. She turned and looked over her shoulder and gasped. A small tray sat on the end table holding two glasses of eggnog. Turning back to Joe, she had tears in her eyes. "You remembered," she said, her voice catching.

"Mmm-hmmm," Joe smiled. "Now tell me again how this tradition works?"

Vanessa picked up the two glasses and handed him one. "We each say what we were most thankful for in the past year," she explained, her voice still shaking with emotion.

"Okay." Joe held his glass up but stared straight into Vanessa's eyes as if he could see to very bottom of her soul. "I'm most thankful for one thing – you."

Vanessa's eyes welled with tears, but she too held her glass aloft. "And I'm so thankful that you're still here with me, alive and well," she stopped for a moment, unable to continue. "I was so scared, Joe. So scared I was going to lose you…"

Gingerly Joe leaned past her, putting both their glasses back on the tray. As he sat up, Vanessa brushed her fingertips across his cheek. Joe swallowed hard and looked away. He knew what had happened last night could have turned out so very differently. He'd lost Iola Morton, his first love, and had it not been for Vanessa entering his life, he probably would have lost his sanity then, too. The idea that he could have lost Vanessa was more than he could deal with. What happened the previous evening made Joe realize just how much Vanessa meant to him. She was more than a long-term girlfriend…so much more…and he had to know she would never put herself in the dangerous position she had last night, just for him.

"What is it?" Vanessa asked, her blue-grey eyes clouding in concern.

"I need you to promise me something," he said, softly.

"What?" she asked, her eyes now wary.

Joe looked away and sighed. She wasn't going to like it; he knew that. But still, he had to ask.

"What you did last night…please….I need you to promise me, you'll never do that again. If I tell you to run, you run and don't look back," his voice faltered and shook as he thought of what could have happened. "Promise me – _please_ – that you will never, _ever_ put yourself in that kind of danger for me again."

Vanessa sat back and stared at him for a long time. Finally she took his left hand and held it in both of hers, clutched to her chest. Her lower lip quivered. When she spoke her voice was soft, but held a conviction that came straight from her heart. "I'm sorry, Joe. I can't. I...I just can't do that."

Joe immediately started to protest, but Vanessa pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. She took a deep breath and continued. "I know what happened to Iola still haunts you. I know what happened last night terrifies you. It all turned out okay, but it could just as easily have gone so wrong." Reaching up with one hand she cupped his face and gently stroked his cheek with her thumb. "I love you Joe, but I'm sorry. I can't tell you what you want to hear. It would be a lie. If the situation had been reversed and I was the one who'd been shot, would you have left me?"

Joe rolled his eyes even knowing it was a ridiculously rhetorical question.

"Then please…" Vanessa begged him, tears filling her eyes. "Don't ask me to do it."

Joe reached out and wrapped his left arm around her. Pulling her to him he buried his face in her shoulder and prayed he wouldn't completely lose it. Apparently sensing he was close to emotional overload, Vanessa held him gently and stroked his hair. For several minutes Joe didn't move, needing the closeness they shared more than he needed to breathe. Finally, he pulled back and gazed into her eyes. Reaching out he brushed a long strand of hair off her shoulder.

"Can I ask you something else?" he requested, this time his voice holding a hint of mischief.

"I don't know," Vanessa eyed him suspiciously. "Will I regret it?"

Joe raised his eyebrows as if to say _'I don't know, but you might.' _Vanessa sighed heavily and nodded her assent.

"Last night, towards the end there I was pretty out of it. When that bozo was using me for a human shield," Joe stopped and eyed his girlfriend for a moment. "Was I hallucinating or did you really shove a gun in his face?"

Vanessa's cheeks flushed red and she looked away in embarrassment.

"You did," Joe muttered, chuckling under his breath.

"Well," Vanessa defended herself. "Frank couldn't get a clear shot at him without hitting you, too! It was the only thing I could think of…and it worked!"

Joe laughed again and stared at her, a twinkle in his eye. "So you're sort of like my own little Dirty Harriet, waving that gun all over the place," he teased, causing Vanessa to turn a bright crimson. "It's kinda kinky though," he said huskily, leaning close. "I think I like it," he finished pressing his lips to hers in a rather lengthy kiss.

Joe thought he heard the doorbell in the background but was infinitely more interested in kissing his girlfriend than he was in finding out who was at the door. A moment later he heard a hearty laugh and a vaguely familiar voice. "I see you're takin' my advice, sonny. Good for you!"

Joe and Vanessa jumped apart and turned to see the kindly old couple who had befriended them in the supermarket checkout line. Behind them Andrea Bender, Fenton, Laura and Frank were smiling and looking a bit emotional.

Vanessa gasped and jumped to her feet. Rushing forward she enveloped the elderly woman in a hug.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed, everyone able to make out the words muffled against the old woman's shoulder. "Thank you so much!" Vanessa pulled back and hugged the woman's husband, too. "I know you wanted to help us – tried to help us," she stopped then, her voice catching in her throat. "Thank you," she repeated, softly.

The elderly woman took Vanessa's hand and squeezed it tightly. "Oh, honey, I just wish we could have done more."

The old man shuffled towards the couch and perched on the arm, next to Joe. "That was a brave thing you did, son. Not many men would have done it." He stared at Joe and his eyes got misty. "I served in the army; World War Two. Was in the first wave to hit Normandy." He reached out and patted Joe on the back. "Woulda been damn proud to have you right there next to me."

"Thank you, sir," Joe said quietly, now feeling his own face grow hot.

The old man patted his back once more and stood up. "We just wanted to make sure you two were okay. Guess we should be going," he said almost reluctantly. He returned to his wife's side and took her elbow.

Joe quickly glanced at his mother and raised his eyebrows. Laura shrugged as if to say _'Why not?' _As the couple turned to leave, Laura stopped them. "Would you like to stay and have dinner with us?" she asked hopefully. These people had wanted to help her son without a thought for themselves and she wanted to get to know them better; much better.

The elderly couple exchanged a glance and Laura got the distinct impression they would love to accept her invitation. "Really," she urged. "We'd all love for you to stay…that is unless you already have plans…"

"Well, we do have reservations at the Bayport Inn for dinner," the woman said, although she didn't sound all that excited about them.

"We could always call and cancel," her husband suggested. He turned to Fenton and Laura. "We have two boys of our own."

"Married boys," his wife smiled. "With kids of their own."

"But they're both in the military," the man easily picked up for her. "One's stationed in Germany and the other is in Japan. Couldn't make it home for Christmas this year," his voice trailed off sadly.

"Well, if you're not looking too forward to dinner at the Bayport Inn, we'd be honored if you'd stay and have Christmas dinner with us," Fenton requested.

"Please?" Vanessa asked.

The old man smiled at her and then glanced back at Joe. "I think _we're_ the ones who'd be honored," he said softly. "We'd love to."

As Frank and Fenton quickly scrambled to add two more chairs and place settings to the table, Andrea and Vanessa took the coats from their last-minute guests and directed them towards the dining room. Laura helped Joe up from the couch and put an arm around his waist. As they turned to leave the room, a new CD began playing in the background. Mother and son stopped and looked at each other, momentarily frozen in time, listening to the song that this year had taken on a whole new meaning…

_I'll be home for Christmas_

_You can count on me…_

The End


End file.
